


Twin Helix

by rhoenix



Category: Exalted
Genre: Abyssal Exalted, Dark Knight to Paladin trope, Dragon-Blooded Exalted, F/M, Gen, Lunar Exalted, Malfeans, Solar Exalted
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-19
Updated: 2015-11-19
Packaged: 2018-05-02 11:16:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 62
Words: 208,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5246270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhoenix/pseuds/rhoenix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After his parents' deaths, Kale searches for his fortune - and finds his destiny to forever change history.  He finds that sometimes, only audacity can lead to victory.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Preface

This story was started several years ago now, when I was working the graveyard shift in helpdesk - hence the listed post date of August, 2004, which is when it was originally finished. I bought the Exalted RPG books (first edition now, and I honestly haven't followed the game since then) because the universe fascinated me. Even though none of my gaming friends were interested in playing, the universe the game presented was interesting enough to write a story in - once I had the basic concept down, it flowed pretty much at the rate of several chapters a week.

Technically, this is not a well-done story, by my standards now at least. The same adjectives or adverbs were over-used in each chapter (in one chapter, I think I used "quickly" about eight times), and there are minor holes in the plot. Moreover, each chapter was written from start to finish in one go each time, and this shows as well in the writing. Nevertheless, I invite you to comment away - I'd like to see what stands out in your read of this work.

I am still proud of this story however, despite its many flaws - mainly because it was my first real novel-length story I've completed.

With all that said, I hope you enjoy. The first forty chapters are written from alternate points of view, the latter twenty with a more combined and fluid perspective. If you've any questions or comments, I'd be glad to hear them. Especially regarding tags and such, since I honestly have no idea how to tag this story.


	2. Eyes of the Forest

Kale had what he would describe as a nearly idyllic childhood. Growing up in the forest southeast of Thorns, in a large cabin built by his father, he quickly came to love the forest every bit as much as his parents. He learned to move through the dense, lush forest as quickly as a wolf might, and as stealthily as a snake. His father mentioned with pride that he had the natural skills of a woodsman, and both his parents delighted in taking him with them on their journeys into the living, breathing forest to gather food.

His parents showed him the small plant for which he was named; a hardy plant that was good for many things, and doesn't cause harm to the place in which it grows. He was aptly named, for he learned very quickly to revere the delicate balance of the forest, taking only what was needed. His father taught him that when he kills an animal, to thank the spirit of the animal for its generosity in giving it's life for them. In return for that gift, his father and mother used every part of the animal possible, to ensure such a gift was never squandered.

He didn't really miss having other children around to play with when he was young, as the animals of the forest to him were his playmates. He remembered one fateful conversation he had with his father one day when they found that the alpha of a wolf pack was slain by a caribou he was attempting to bring down. The pack's mournful howls filled the night air, waking all of them up.

His father gently touched his wife, startled by the noise, and kissed her to reassure her. Making no noise, he looked at Kale, and then began getting dressed as quickly and quietly as possible. Kale got the message, and got dressed as fast as he could, making no noise. He followed his father out of the cabin, rolling his weight on his feet as he stepped so as to make as little noise as possible, as his father had taught him. The two of them moved to through the dense growth toward the howls, and saw the pack slowly pacing and howling around their fallen leader. His father gently touched Kale on his shoulder, and Kale understood: that pack had been good to them, often driving elk and other good game animals close to the cabin where they lived, enabling them to get at least one of their own very easily. Kale's parents had returned the favor by driving a herd of elk toward the wolf pack with wild yells and loud noise, enabling the pack to bring down a few animals for their own.

The two of them silently moved away from the scene, and back to the cabin, walking slowly. To Kale, the death wasn't a mystery, as it would have been to most children his age, but it still made tears run down his face. It felt as if he'd lost a friend, even if it was a friend that he knew only from afar. His father walked with his arm around his son, understanding his feeling. He felt the same way.

The next few years were good to them. Kale learned more about moving through the forest in which he lived, the plains to the North, and even going with his father to Thorns to trade elk skins for the few items that they could not make themselves, such as lanterns and knives. He didn't feel excluded or apart from the children of the town; indeed, he joined them in their games while his father bartered patiently for the items he and his family needed. Kale had learned quickly that the agility he used on a daily basis in the forest he called home enabled him to outpace most of the children, but neither he or they minded. When his father was done, he'd come find Kale, and they'd go home together.

Then the great sickness came. The Great Contagion, as it came to be known. Kale remembered it indelibly, for it happened one month before his 17th birthday. It swept silently and cruelly through the forest in which he lived, violating and slaying whatever it touched. It claimed many of the animals in the forest, and it claimed his mother as well. It marked her with open sores and a bloody cough, and it withered her swiftly. His father was heartbroken by tended his wife constantly; leaving Kale to collect the herbs and food they needed while he lovingly tended his wife. She lasted three weeks before the Contagion claimed her as well. He was in the cabin, watching as she gave a great, shuddering sigh, and then lay still, the pain of her passing frozen in her eyes.

His father spoke up, in his usual quiet voice. "Kale, please go get more Adranis root from beneath the Elm trees, and bring it back."

Kale knew why his father had asked him. The Elm trees were a good three miles away, and would get him out of the cabin while his father grieved the passing of the woman he loved. As he left the cabin, he could hear the great, shuddering cries from his father. His own vision was watery and blurred; he cried himself as he raced to get the roots his father had asked for.

He returned in the space of a candlemark with a good selection of the roots his father asked for. His father's eyes were red from grief, but he took the roots from his son gently, and began mixing the roots with several other herbs to form a sweet-smelling paste, which he began carefully rubbing into his dead wife's skin. Kale watched his father perform his task, tears still running down his face. Despite his grief, he looked askance at his father for doing this: the thick, viscous mixture being unfamiliar to him. Through his tears, his father explained what he was doing, and his father's words were burned into his mind for the rest of his days.

"This mixture, called the Tears for the Fallen, is placed on the body of the person you love who leaves you. The act of placing the Tears on their skin shows their spirit you care about them and love them, and will prevent them giving into grief after they pass on. The smell also alerts the animals that body is not for them to eat, but it something to be claimed only by the Earth itself."

He was finishing rubbing the mixture slowly onto his wife's now lifeless body as he was speaking. Kale could tell by the slow, gentle, and loving way his father did so that he truly did love his mother, very much. His father's tears fell onto her body as he worked, and he mixed his tears in with the mixture. Kale understood why the mixture got its name, now.

He helped his father move his mother's body outside, and helped his father construct the pyre on which she would be returned to the world. As they worked, his father intoned various blessings at each part.

He finished building the small wooden pyre.  
"Wood from the World, I ask for your help in helping Alia to the place that brings her the most peace."

He slowly poured a bowl of water over her body.  
"Water from the oceans and rivers, I ask for your help in carrying Alia where she would reach the most peace."

He gently blew the sweet-smelling ash from incense he'd burned in a bowl over her body.  
"Wind from my body and the world, I ask for your help in gently pushing Alia where she would find the most peace."

He scattered iron filings over her body from another bowl.  
"Iron from the Earth's body, I ask you to help Alia navigate to the place where she would find the most peace."

He used a flint and tinder to light the pyre, and stepped back, tears filling his eyes as he finished the final part of the ritual.  
"Fire from the energies of the world, give her the energy to reach her peaceful resting place."

His prayer complete to the five elements, he stood by his son, watching through their tears as the pyre was consumed by fire.

He and his father both heard wolves howling out of sight, the same howl he'd heard earlier in his life when their alpha died. His father put an arm over Kale's shoulders. "They know too, and they mourn with us."

Kale broke down completely, sobbing. Yet through his grief at the Contagion which took his mother away, he was comforted in a small way that the wolves returned the sentiment that he and his father had given them when they mourned their alpha's passing. Everything moves in circles, he realized through his keening.

The next day, his father told him that his real lessons would begin today. His father's face was still red-eyed, his mouth a grim line.

His father taught him many things, and kept pushing at Kale to succeed. Kale was somewhat surprised by this: not by his father wishing him to learn what he knew, but the underlying urgency with which he taught Kale. He saw a few months later that his father was passing along all his knowledge as quickly as time would allow, and realized why: his father was preparing to join his wife.

Kale was filled with sorrow at this, but didn't mention this to his father. He suspected that his father already knew anyway.

Over the next seven years, his father told him of the time he'd spent as a soldier, and taught Kale the art of swordsmanship, including lessons with his favorite weapon: the huge two-handed sword he'd used most. His father explained his reasoning: "When using a sword and shield, you tend to get lost in move, and countermove of a fight. Knowing you have no shield and must rely on your own agility forces you to learn the ways of ending a fight as fast and decisively as possible."

Kale saw the wisdom in this, and learned all he could. His father taught him the basics of using all martial weapons, but he felt as his father did: the large and heavy two-handed sword was his favorite. He learned how to block and parry many strikes at once with it, when to parry, when to dodge, and when and how to counter effectively. The way he was taught was focused on taking his opponent's life as fast as possible, with efficiency of movement. Kale was a little scared of this knowledge, since it seemed a bit heartless, until his father explained his reasoning: "If someone wants to take your life, and cannot be dissuaded, the time for talking is over. This will hopefully be rare for you, but if you must fight for your life, you must learn how your opponent fights, and then use this knowledge against him as efficiently as possible. The longer the fight, the more chances your opponent has of taking your life, rather than you taking his."

Many of the movements were viciously efficient, especially one where you dodge an opponent's downward chop moving as little as possible, drop your sword on the handle of their weapon, and "ride" the sword up through the neck. He hoped he'd never have to do this, but he was thankful that he knew how.

He'd used the bow, being a good archer from the time he was little, but learned also how to use the bow and arrow as a weapon of war, learning to be accurate and swift, following in the philosophy of efficiency his father had taught him from his experience.

In the last two years, he saw his father growing thinner, and slower. His father was no old man, or rather shouldn't be. Kale knew from his intuition that his father was starting to give in to the grief of his wife passing, and would be joining her soon.

In the latter two years of seven, he learned the many uses of herbs he didn't learn about as a child. He learned about the history his father had learned of the world; the political intrigue that surrounded those in power, and through his father wanted no part of it, living as and where he did, he learned all he could about it. Kale learned about how those touched and blessed by the Unconquered Sun, the Solars ruled this world, and the story that the Children of Dragons, the Dragon-blooded, spread about their former rulers: how they were corrupt, hedonistic, cruel and decadent. His father suspected that there was treachery afoot here, but he'd never been close enough to those involved to know more.

On the same day seven years after his mother had finally fallen to the Great Contagion, his father died in his sleep. Kale cried at his side, but performed the same ceremony for his father that had been performed for his mother seven years ago.

After he had spoken the blessings, and as he was watching the pyre through watery eyes, he heard the wolves howling once again.


	3. Birth of Shadows

"You have been summoned to your Master's chambers. He asks that you come clad in the raiments of battle."

With this curt and succinct message, the incorporeal messenger turned and drifted away into one of the labyrinthine passages.

Standing gracefully after closing her book, Rosethorne cast off her black silken robe, briefly revealing her muscular and curved body, before clothing it once again in the padded bodysuit she wore under her armor. This was quickly followed soon by the obsidian-colored armor itself. Her armor had no ornaments, created by her request to have no weak points, no ornamentation, and no frills. To her, to have them would be useless and ultimately wasteful.

She tied her long-bladed tiger claw to her left hand, made of the black soulsteel as her armor was. Light didn't reflect from it any more than it did her armor; light itself seemed to be drawn and trapped within the featureless black metal. She tied her scabbard to her left side, into which a long, thick, and curved scimitar made of the same lightless soulsteel was sheathed. With milky white-skinned hands, he tied her hair, the color of jet, back into a utilitarian ponytail and tucked it into her armor in the back. Finally, she placed her helm on her head. It's form had been changed against her wishes made to the blacksmith to have two swept-back horns starting on the temples of her helmet, and curving back to cross behind the back of her head. She felt this was wasteful, and would allow an enemy's weapon purchase on her helmet, but her Lord had disagreed and over-ruled her, to show that her will was second to his own. This little gesture was a small reminder of this fact, but one she remembered each time she donned her armor, as her Lord had undoubtedly wished.

This process had taken less than three minutes, after which she moved into the mazelike corridors of her Lord's palace, walking with long-legged strides into her Lord's audience chamber. She moved with purposeful steps to the center of the room, five paces away from his throne, and then bent with a bowed head onto one knee, as he'd dictated she should, despite being one of his generals. It was a mark of respect for his rule though, so she did not mind submitting to this being of palpable power.

He smiled slightly behind his mask at his general's entrance. She never failed to impress him with her swiftness, as she had arrived ten seconds after his ghostly servant did, after informing her of his wishes. Of course, it would be unseemly to allow her knowledge of this, lest she become prideful.

"General, you take unnecessary time in getting here. Do you wish to test your Lord's patience?"

Her reply was made with a low, emotionless voice, as always. "Your servant apologizes for her error, and arrives ready to accede to her Lord's wishes."

She was always a puzzle to him. He had chosen her seemingly at random five years ago from one of the sickly peasants living within the Shadowlands near his palace. He had chosen her because she was tall and strong, and one that seemed capable of accepting the gift of the Abyss. The fact that she was beautiful was of no consequence to him; such things were purely ornamental. As his servants dragged her half-dead from the beating she had received into his chambers, the first thing he noticed was that she had passed this test. She did not make a sound, though there were a few tears on her face from the pain.

He ordered her to be tied down to the sacrificial table, one that all peasants had heard stories about - killing the living upon this table released all the latent spiritual energy within the dying and tortured person to be fed upon by the Lord of this realm, necessary for his sustenance.

She did not struggle, but instead moved on her own to lie down on the table. The fact that she was accepting of death passed his second unspoken test. He had his servants not skin her alive, as he normally would do, but instead simply slit her wrists and ankles, allowing the blood to pool below in the curved bowl below the table. Without making any outward signs, he coaxed the corrupted Abyssal Essence from its now-opened prison, and forced it into her with a gesture exactly one minute before she would have died. However, due to the corruption of the spirit's former Solar Essence, fusion between the living and the Essence had to be voluntary to occur.

Her eyes opened wide at the unnatural feeling of the Essence entering her body. Yes, this was the time.

"I offer you not death this night, but instead a chance to be trapped between the world of the living and the dead, gaining great power at my discretion, and spreading death to the living at my wishes. Do you accept such a gift?"

That she was able to use her voice with so little blood left in her body would have surprised him, if he hadn't heard so many screams from the dying on this table after they had no skin and no blood left at the moment they died. Her answer was, curiously enough, in the same flat and emotionless voice he now knew so well, and was not a pleading for her life, not begging for a swift death, but two simple words:

"I accept."

The Essence hungrily fused with her body, fusing with and tainting the living essence of spiritual energy within her body with the touch of Oblivion. The Essence itself was formerly a great Solar general during the first age, long-since driven mad by the pain and horror of it's decision to be freed from the Jade Prison, at the cost of it's own purity. The general's Essence had finally bowed to the inevitable after nine hundred years of being imprisoned, and had agreed to the price of freedom. The reality of that price, being corrupted by the taint of Oblivion's cold touch had driven the general mad, wishing now only to cause the death of everything living, in the most horrible and painful way imaginable.

With this, came the first surprise to the Lord, the Mask of Winters: none of the personality traits of this Essence came to the fore with this young woman. No rage; no madness; no lust for killing, even. If anything, it only seemed to strengthen her cold and emotionless demeanor.

When he had walked her into the tomb of his dead and decaying god, the source of his own power, with the purpose of tainting and finally destroying her former name to forge a new one for her new life, she showed no fear and no hesitation even then.

The dead god stirred in its sleep, and gave her a name and title: Rosethorne, Huntress Clad in the Raiments of Shadow. She rarely called herself by her new name, considering it a waste of time to speak it always. Instead, she quickly became known as the General Rosethorne.

Over the next five years, she had quickly learned the arts of war, being trained by the most warlike wraiths in his service. She learned the arts all good soldiers should know: swordsmanship, archery, how to treat her weapons and armor, and above all, how to fight, and fight well. After she had mastered the basics with a surprising amount of natural talent that turned rapidly into skill, he allowed her to choose another weapon besides the sword to fight with and be trained with in melee.

Her answer surprised him again, for she had scorned the axe, heavy mace, or flail many of his other prized fighters learned with maniacal glee. She had chosen the tiger claw, a martial arts weapon requiring precision and great agility.

So, he had the wraith of a prominent martial artist train her rigorously. As she now needed a scant four hours of sleep at a time, and could go without sleep for a week if necessary with no detriment to her wits or strength thanks to her new Exalted status, she trained for three years alone with this wraith, who pushed her far harder than he had ever taught his students, and she had responded by learning swiftly, accomplishing what would have taken a normal student ten years to learn in that three years.

However, the wraithly sensei was as puzzled as his Lord was: she never showed any emotion whatsoever. No distress, no complaints, no joy, no happiness, no laughter, no cry of pain. Nothing. He confided in his Lord what he suspected: that she did feel, and quite a bit went on behind her stone-like emotionless gaze, but he was never sure of this, as she gave no outward sign, however subtle, that he was correct. To all appearances, she lived only to follow orders swiftly and efficiently, and was intelligent enough to follow the spirit of even the most carelessly worded commands.

The next year saw him giving his new Abyssal a trial by fire, giving her command of a small regiment, and giving her the order to march on a town in the outer reaches of his realm to suppress a rebellion of the people that lived there.

She surprised him again. She and her regiment tore through the poorly trained militia with terrifying efficiency, but she did not slaughter half the town, as he himself would have done. Instead, she had her regiment assemble the entire town in the town's square, and forced them to stand in organized ranks, forming a square of the assembled villagers. She then had her archers slay specific people out of the assembled grid of villagers to form the symbol W out of their corpses, the signature letter of her Lord, the Mask of Winters.

The entire time, she had not spoken a word directly to the villagers, until her archers had finished cutting down the correct people to form the symbol with a salvo of their arrows. She then turned to the shaking villagers, and only said: "Remember your Lord, for he remembers you."

With that, she and her regiment departed as swiftly as they had come, returning to her Lord's castle. She reported to him with precise detail everything she had done in her oral report, standing at attention in front of his throne.

When he asked her why she had done what she did with the villagers, she replied, "It was the most efficient way to ensure they wouldn't rebel again."

He decided to test her once again a few months after that by taking her while she slept. She woke during this, but still made no sound, and showed no emotion as he took his pleasure with her. He left once he was done, and had one of his wraiths watch her and report all her movements after he left. She frustrated him again by simply bathing and going back to sleep.

After this, he came to the conclusion that her Exaltation had broken her, turning her into a servant that only followed his orders, and viewing him as akin to a god, which was something that pleased him. Something that nagged him less and less over time was the strength of will it must have taken to completely override the stronger Abyssal Essence's personality, since it was a very emotional, mad and bloodthirsty one, but she exhibited none of these traits.

His mind returned to the present. He had kept her a full minute in silence while he walked with his memories, but as a loyal servant, she had learned patience, and had not so much as twitched while he sat in thought.

"Rosethorne, take your regiment and do a long patrol of my realm in the Underworld, and scour the Shadowlands as well for any signs of trouble. When you are finished, return to me and report."

She did not look up from her supplicant position. She spoke again in the same flat voice. "And if I encounter resistance, Lord?"

"Bring to them the glory of Death."

She remained still, kneeling in her position in front of his throne. He dismissed her with his voice and a wave of his hand. "Leave now."

She stood gracefully and swiftly, and saluted by drawing one of the claws of her tiger claw over her right wrist, spilling a little of her blood onto the floor, then holding her tiger claw-clad hand over her right shoulder. "I hear, and obey."

She then turned on her heel, and strode from the room. As usual, there were no drops of blood following her exit, owing to the power of the Exalted power within her. The Mask of Winters smiled behind his mask, allowing himself to be impressed by his young Abyssal. Oh yes, Abyssal Essences were quite rare and valuable, but were also very forceful of personality, accentuating the same feelings and points of view of the humans they bonded with. His two other deathknights had to be reminded of their Lord's power when they got out of line, and he had heard of deathknights in thrall to other Deathlords getting drunk rather swiftly on the great power the Abyssal Essences gave them, which made him think more about his new General.

She never used her more preternatural abilities without good cause for doing so, and never tortured or took pleasure in killing the people that crossed her, though never hesitated in killing. She mentioned considering torture a waste of time and effort.

Yes, she was an enigma to him, but he had to admit...he'd never seen a more capable general. It appeared that the world of the living was perhaps finally within his reach, with her leading the armies. He smiled with satisfaction at the thought.

Rosethorne, his general, with a heart as frozen as the deepest snow, bringing her cold touch to the lands of the living. He could nearly taste it.


	4. Third Eye Opens

Kale awoke the next morning. He was thankful as he woke, as he drifted off to sleep the previous night, serenaded by the howls of mourning from the wolves. It comforted him through his tears that there were other beings out there that felt his measure of pain and loss. Perhaps it was his mother and father speaking through them, telling him that they still watched over him, and still loved him.

It made his eyes water anew as he thought about this, but it filled him with resolve as well. He was taking this as a sign that he should begin his own journey into the world, leaving the womb of the forest and cabin he'd called home these first twenty four years of his life, and venture into the world for experiences and memories to name as his own.

He took his time packing up the things he would need into a satchel that once belonged to his father: money from the top of the closet, meat he and his father had cured a month ago, his bedroll and blanket, a hammock, and a few other necessities. He carefully packed up the herbs from the cabin into small leather pouches. He may not need them, but their presence would be a small comfort to him as he ventured alone into the rest of the world.

He looked at his father's finely crafted longbow for a time before placing that with his satchel. He knew in the back of his mind that it didn't need tending, but he waxed the bowstring and oiled the wood anyway. The motions brought him some sense of peace as he worked, carefully and surely. Finally, he looked in the back of the closet, casting his gaze over his father's greatsword.

He looked at it as if seeing it for the first time, with memories of his father's grim-faced tutelage as he taught Kale the proper arts of using it, and the small smile that disturbed the grimness of his face when he had found out that Kale felt as drawn to the large blade, as he himself was.

The sword itself wasn't made with un-necessary ornamentation, engravings, or anything really decorative. A circular hilt divided the sword between the woven handle and the long, slowly curved single-edged blade itself. It had been made by a sword smith of great skill, who had been paid quite a large sum of money by his father to be made to serve but one single purpose: to serve it's wielder well in battle.

His father had made sure Kale harbored no illusions about the sword. "A weapon," he'd said, "is neither inherently good nor evil. How the wielder uses it decides that. It can be used by a just and fair person, bringing swift death to those who would terrorize and exploit the innocent for their own selfish gain. However, it can also be used by the wicked to kill those same innocent people in the name of greed and short-lived power."

Kale set his jaw with determination as he sat up from the bed, and began carefully cleaning the blade, and re-strapping the handle. He carefully wove strips from his mother's tough hemp working dress, and his father's equally tough breeches, made from the same material. His father's breeches had been dyed a dark, night blue by his mother, and her own dress was dyed a more sedate forest green. The two colors began to merge as he wove them carefully over the handle, forming a crosshatch pattern. He made sure each weaving was tight, so that the grip wouldn't become unsteady if he needed to draw the blade, just as his father had taught him.

When he was finished, he found the simple sheath his father used. It lay most of the blade bare, with a leather sheath for only the final half-foot of the blade, and the first foot as well. However, each had leather cord ties that would allow one to swiftly draw the big blade if necessary. He attached the blade to his back, placed the bow over his shoulder and neck, put on the quiver with twenty of his father's big hunting arrows, and finally grabbed his satchel. Yes, he'd be as ready as he'd ever be.

He took his time locking up the cabin. Since he probably wouldn't be back for a while, he'd rather not come back to a mother bear living in his cabin. He carefully locked up the windows as best he could, while making sure some air could enter and leave. He walked outside, and barred the door. Taking a deep breath, he turned his back on the place he had been born in, grown up in, and learned so much so far, and began walking with the long steps his father had taught him when he wanted to cover lots of ground quickly, without expending too much energy.

After an hour of walking, he felt that he was being followed. He tried to look around without being obvious about it, but couldn't see anything. However, he heard the stealthy signs: a twig snapping, a rock being moved slightly, a dry leaf being stepped on. Whatever, or whoever it was, it was being mostly stealthy, but wasn't being as stealthy as he would have been, which pointed to someone who was still learning the art of moving quietly.

He next heard the sound of a dry leaf being pushed into the ground about five paces behind him, and he whirled around. In response to his sudden movement, he saw a young wolf dart behind some rocks. He recognized the wolf: it was one of the cubs of the pack alpha he had seen recently. It was alone in following him, which made him curious. With seeming disinterest, he turned around and kept walking, while throwing one of the pieces of dried meat over his shoulder. He smiled as he heard it being quietly, though hungrily devoured by the young wolf.

This pace was kept up throughout the day, and when the sun was dipping behind the horizon at last, he decided to make camp for the night. He saw a tallish tree nearby, one with limbs that would support his weight if he were to sleep in its embrace. He pulled out the hammock from his satchel, and strung it between two of the branches. He stowed the rest of his gear in the crooks of the tree's limbs near him, within reach if needs be. He kept his bow and quiver nearest, as he'd need them the most if something upsetting happened.

He heard a rabbit's squeal as he was beginning to close his eyes, and smiled to himself. It seemed his wolf companion had found his dinner. He ate another piece of the dried meat, and drifted off to sleep.

The dreams he had were the most real, and yet the most unreal he'd ever had. He was laying in the same hammock, in the same place, but the surroundings, the rock mesa above him, and even the tree had taken on an otherworldly, ethereal quality. Everything around him was well lit, but not bright or hard on his eyes. It was as if everything around him emitted it's own glow. He saw the sleeping wolf, tucked into a crevasse in the rock mesa, where the day's heat was still trapped. The wolf was moving slightly and twitching its paws; it appeared to be dreaming. He was momentarily bothered by the fact that he still did not know the wolf's gender, but it quickly passed. He decided that he'd find out, if the wolf decided to stay with him. His mind drifted briefly to something his mother had told him as a child, that an animal would pick you to be it's companion, not necessarily the other way around. The animal would show you that it was making the first gesture or trust, and it was up to you to return it in kind. If you did so properly, you'd have another friend to stay by your side. It seemed that he had been picked, and by the cub of the pack alpha, at that. He smiled at this, and felt honored by it.

Even as everything around him, including the tree he was sleeping in, was glowing with a soft inner light, he saw a much brighter glow off to the east. It seemed to surround a woman, who had dark skin, long, opal-colored hair, and a bow over her shoulder. She looked to be young, perhaps his age, but her eyes told him that she was far, far older than that. He was momentarily shocked by the fact that he could pick out such details at the distance she appeared to be, but he soon lost himself in looking at her once again. He noticed a small, perfect golden circle inscribed on the center of her forehead, glowing just as brightly as the nimbus around her. She had seen him staring, as she was looking at him the whole time, with an amused smile on her face. She winked at him, and the soft yellow nimbus of light around her got brighter, and more intense still, until the soft golden glow was unbearable to look at.

He awoke, and found himself looking at the sun through the branches of this tree. The sun was just beginning the day, peeping over the eastern horizon. He lay back on his side, now awake, and found himself puzzled by what he had just dreamt. What surprised him more was that he remembered every detail of this dream, when he rarely, if at all, remembered any of his dreams.

He then passed it off as just a dream, even if it was a very strong one. He gathered his things, unstrung his hammock, and swung down from the tree, landing on all fours to greatly lessen the impact of falling. As he straightened, he was amused by the fact that he noticed two grey tips appear slowly over a rock near the mesa to his right, followed slowly by a pair of grey eyes, and a black nose. He smiled, and threw another piece of dried meat toward it, falling short by a few paces intentionally.

He then stretched, and began walking once again, chewing his breakfast as he walked once again. As he walked, he thought more about his dream, which was still as fresh and as clear as when he had dreamt it to begin with. He was disturbed from his thoughts by the sparkle of a spring, which he walked towards without hesitation.

After only a few minutes, he reached the spring, gushing cool, clear water from where it escaped the rock, and drank greedily. He filled his waterskin once he was finished, and looked at his reflection as he did so.

He smirked as he saw a passing resemblance to the spiky plant for which he was named, as his own brown hair spiked out at random angles from the top of his head, his hair ending at the nape of his neck. Dusk-brown eyes looked back at him.

He saw the same golden circle he saw on the forehead of the woman he had seen in his dream appear for a split second on his own forehead, before disappearing, and his reflection was instantly replaced by the woman's face. Her face mirrored his facial expressions of surprise, then wonder, then shock at the sight, though there was the same amused look on her face as she mirrored his expressions. He took a step back from the water, and sat heavily on the ground, lost in thought.

No, that couldn't have been an ordinary dream, if he was still seeing things from it while he was awake. Just to make very sure, he followed the old expression, and pinched himself on the arm. Yes, it hurt, and his surroundings hadn't changed any, apart from the wolf nonchalantly trotting up in plain sight, and drinking it's own fill. He chanced a look at the wolf's hindquarters, and knew the wolf's gender as male at last. Well, at least that answered that question. However, he had many more racing around in his head like playful puppies, refusing to stay still until they were answered.

He shook his head. He realized that he really didn't know where he was going at first, but upon looking at his surroundings, he was headed toward the city of Thorns. He shrugged. It was as good a place as any, he supposed. He glanced to his left, and saw the wolf sitting looking at him, in plain sight, with his head tilted slightly to his left, as if to say "What are you doing, just sitting there? Are you ill?"

Well, that helped him get moving, if nothing else did. He got up once more and began walking, with the wolf no longer slinking along behind him, but a few paces behind him and to the left, in plain sight. That was a good sign, he thought. He threw another piece of dried meat toward the wolf, and the smacking sounds he heard told him the wolf was enjoying the gift with relish. He smiled at this, though he realized his own store of food was growing short, and he'd have to resupply himself soon.

As if in answer, he saw a large hare nibbling on the grasses far off in the distance. He held up his hand at the wolf, willing it to understand that he was asking it to stay still. Without taking his eyes off the hare, he slowly, carefully, and quietly removed his gear, leaving him with nothing on but the bow, and an arrow nocked. Using the cover of the terrain, he slowly stalked the hare until he was within distance of a bowshot.

Soon enough, he was, and he carefully and slowly drew the arrow back, taking very careful aim, as well as a deep breath. If he missed, the hare would take off like the arrow that was about to leave his bow, and he probably wouldn't get another shot. He tracked the hare's movements carefully with the bow, and finally let go; exhaling the breath he was holding as he did so. He smiled; his aim was good, and had struck the hare in the head.

He quickly walked over to the hare, and said a prayer of thanks for the hare for giving him its life, that he might eat a few more days. He then skinned and gutted the hare, and began building a fire. He whistled toward the wolf, who came running. The wolf had already smelled the blood, and began nosing carefully toward the hare, until his nose was almost amongst the hare's innards. Kale moved the hare away from the curious and hungry wolf, laughing as he did so. He dropped the hare's innards close to the wolf's nose, who then sniffed, and finally gulped down the gift.

Kale began cutting the meat into strips, and swiftly making a wooden rack for the meat, began curing the meat as well as the fur. He decided to make a pouch from the fur, and began grinding the bones heavily into a powder after letting them dry out. He ground the bones very carefully until it was nothing more than a very fine powder. He raised the bowl of bone powder to the sky, thanking the hare silently one last time, then mixed some water and herbs from his pouches with the bone meal, and daubed it carefully over the meat to help it roast more evenly. He spent the rest of the day curing the meat, "testing" pieces now and then; just to be sure they were good to eat.

This had taken longer than he thought it would, so he tucked the now-cured meat into his pouch, and began looking for a place to spend the night. He decided that since predators were pretty scarce in this area, he'd bed down on the soft earth, next to his fire. He fed the fire a bit more dry wood from old trees in the area, and then prepared for the evening.

The wolf, for his part, felt full and sleepy now. He saw Kale getting ready for the evening. Well, he was being a bit indolent in not pushing on through the night, as he would have done, but he sighed all the same, and lay down, resting his head on his paws. Perhaps more interesting things would come with the day tomorrow.

Kale saw the wolf looking askance at him before laying down himself, and he smiled to himself. Yes, it seems that a friendship was blossoming, alright. He was thankful for the companionship, though he wondered when the wolf would show him a sign as to his name. Soon enough, he supposed.

He wrapped the blanket around himself, added a bit more wood to the fire, and began closing his eyes in preparation for sleep.


	5. Blood the Rose Spills

Rosethorne marched to the quarters of her second in command, Lieutenant Mire. She knocked once, and waited with well-hidden impatience for the wraith to open the door, which he did soon, as he knew whose knock that was.

She looked at him briefly as he stood at attention in his doorway. "Gather the regiment. We leave for a patrol in one candlemark."

He saluted her. "At once, General."

She then marched to the stables, subtly amused at the fact that incorporeal wraiths could wear corporeal soulsteel armor, but given the nature of the metal, she knew logically that it was no mystery; soulsteel was made, after all, from the weaker souls of the dead, being useless for anything else.

She reached the stables shortly, and opened the door to the chamber of her warstrider. The beast was made by those skilled in crafting the souls and bones of the dead, creating a rough approximation of a horse. However, this horse had no head, and its front cavity was made for a rider to stand within, giving a centaur-like appearance. It made an angry noise, which sounded like an otherworldly scream, but quieted down once it recognized her, and stood in place obediently. It seemed to be in a fairly docile mood; she'd had to beat it into submission a few times before. However, a spirited mount was no bad thing in battle, as long as it knew who its master was.

She jumped into the cavity at the front, and the bones moved with a grating noise around her, leaving her upper torso exposed. It moved obediently into the parade ground, where her troops were beginning to gather. Lieutenant Mire was an efficient officer, and for this she was glad. She'd had to execute a few blunderers in the past, until she had found one worthy of being her second in command.

They gathered quickly, and stood at attention in rank, making no noise. She looked at the gathered force. Killers, murderers, thugs, and thieves; some living, most not. They were a perfect army once she was through training them, as they had no ethics, no morals, and enjoyed their work immensely.

She called out to them in a loud voice, her helmet distorting her voice strangely, giving it an eerie reverse-echo. "The mighty Mask of Winters requires us to patrol his lands, and ensure that everyone properly knows their place."

She trotted her Warstrider to the front of the regiment, and spoke a single word to get them marching: "Move!"

Her Lord had blessed them with four other warstriders, ridden by her Lieutenant, and three others in rank below him. Having underlings on fast mounts helped decide the outcome of a battle, making sure that her orders were heard and followed quickly. Not that they'd faced anything that really necessitated a prolonged fight, but it never hurt to be cautious.

She marched at the front, flanked by the four other Warstriders in a vee formation, followed by the marching regiment. They patrolled the circumference of her Lord's lands before working their way to the interior, in a spiral movement. It would take a little longer, but the ground covered would be more thoroughly scoured for anything amiss.

They marched through the few townships in the land, and the citizens there did not dare look directly at the regiment, lest they be used as examples on proper behavior. She heard some murmuring from a few of her troops; they were obviously disappointed at the town's quiescence, and wished to have their fun. However, they kept their voices down and kept marching in formation, so she did not correct them for their breach of protocol. Yet.

She heard the murmuring cease once they left the town, and she was glad for their sake that she wouldn't have to execute some of her force for their error. After all, it was highly irritating to train new troops, and took un-necessary time; time that could be better spent doing her job.

They finished the wide circuit of the lands in a little under a week. She was pleased, but did not tell her troops this; they might become full of themselves. She began the spiral inward to check the interior towns, and began to find something curious: the further Western towns had surprisingly few people inhabiting them. She was suspicious of this, since the town Hashald was to the West, and was the one she and her regiment had suppressed an insurrection in only a few months ago. She and her regiment patrolled as usual, and finally came upon Hashald.

Neither she nor any member of her regiment could see anyone there. The houses were empty, with beds unmade. They found the fields of the town, which weren't overgrown, suggesting that this exodus had been recent. They also found four corpses lying in the fields in a heap. Her Lieutenant checked them, and told her that they'd been dead no more than a week, probably less. She signaled for everyone to make no noise, and led them through the town limits.

She heard yells and battle cries of "Remember your families!" from behind them, and turned in time to see the back row of her regiment cut down by peasants using swords and pikes.

"About face!" She yelled out, and the battle began in earnest. "Take the leaders alive!" Was her next order, which was good timing, as her regiment tended to enjoy battle a bit too much. She stood in her Warstrider, simply watching as the pitiful rebellion was quelled once again. Her instincts said this was too easy, and her instincts proved correct: battle cries erupted all around them. The mystery of the sparse populations in the outlying towns was abruptly answered, as hundreds of peasants; all armed, surrounded them, and began to charge at them.

She allowed herself the pleasure of taking part in this battle; normally her regiment was able to handle threats presented to them, but in this case, they were outnumbered. These peasants were fighting for revenge, which made them as dangerous as the troops in her regiment, though not as well trained. She leapt from her Warstrider, and began charging at the mass in front of her, and her adrenaline began pumping. The Essence within her body hummed with excitement; the Exalted being within her excited at the prospect of a massacre. Time seemed to slow down to her heightened senses, while her perception of the world around her stayed at the same speed.

There were three foolish peasants who outpaced their companions to meet her. The first swung his sword at her, which she caught between the blades of her tiger claw, and promptly sliced him through from shoulder to hip with her scimitar. She moved her scimitar up to parry a pike thrust at her from the second peasant, and pulled her left arm back to punch him in the face with her tiger claw, the blades punching through the back of his head. She used his corpse as a shield against the next peasant, who tried to cut her in half with a downward slash. She smiled inwardly, as she wouldn't have to dodge; her armor would have stopped the blow. However, she sidestepped and swung the corpse of his companion to absorb the impact, leaving her with half a corpse. Her right arm already raised, she beheaded him with a sharp slash from her scimitar.

She swung her left arm in an arc, causing the remainder of the corpse to fly at the peasants quickly reaching her. It flew low, the bloody mass tripping the two in front. She ran forward, and spun around to dodge the peasant's pitiful attempt at an attack, and beheaded him from behind, and followed through with the motion to slash the next peasant through the head with the long blades of her tiger claw. Continuing this spinning motion, she cut through the raised sword arm of the next peasant, the blade passing through his neck with an unbroken motion. She continued this macabre dance of death, peasants falling before her like wheat to a scythe. They never had a chance; her reactions were far too quick for any of them to come close to successfully landing a blow.

There was a peasant wearing a crudely made breastplate behind the others, shouting encouragements and battle cries. Rosethorne tore through their ranks quickly, and struck him in the backs of the knees with the unsharpened side of her scimitar, forcing him to fall to the ground in pain. She quickly finished off the remaining peasants, and dragged the man by the shirt collar toward her troops.

As she walked, she saw that her regiment had finished off most of the peasants. There were a few melees still going on, but for the most part the battle was over. She noticed with satisfaction that there were several captured peasants, in addition to the crying waste of life and flesh pleading for his life that she was dragging over the broken and rocky ground.

She threw the crying fool to her Lieutenant, who held him securely. She waited patiently for her regiment to finish the slaughter of the remaining peasants. This was done in short order, after which her troops gathered to her, surrounding the captured peasants in charge of this failed insurrection.

She grabbed the one she'd lamed, and hauled him upright, to speak with him face to face. She paused a moment before speaking, letting him tremble in fear.

Once again, her helm distorted her voice, causing her voice to echo in reverse: the echo happening before she spoke a word, rather than after. "Who's responsible for this?"

The peasant shook with fear, and tried a few times unsuccessfully to speak. She relaxed her grip on his neck slightly so he could speak, and he stammered, "N-n-n-Nanso." He pointed a trembling finger to the peasant on the far right, who was trying unsuccessfully to be inconspicuous. "N-n-Nanso s-started this!"

She hauled the trembling waste of life over in front of the man he'd named as the instigator. She looked him up and down before speaking. "Are you Nanso?"

He did not reply immediately, which made her impatient. "Speak, fool!"

He spoke quietly, looking at her with hate-filled eyes. "Yes, I started this, for what you did to my family!"

She nodded, and then abruptly turned to the soldier nearest to her. "Bring me a pig." He saluted, and ran off. She stood, looking at him in silence. He was brave enough to meet her gaze, while the peasant in the grip of her left arm tried pitifully to escape her grip.

In short order, a thin, poorly fed and weakly struggling pig was brought to her. She nodded at her soldier, who held the pig in place on the ground. She looked at the soldiers holding Nanso still, and motioned for them to haul him upright. They did so with alacrity. She handed the weakly struggling peasant in her grip to the nearest soldier, who held him securely.

She looked at Nanso for a moment, and with a blur of motion struck his groin, cutting off his scrotum with deft precision. He screamed in pain, but kept looking at her, precisely as she wished. She had the soldier move the pig in front of him, and unceremoniously dropped the bloody mass on the ground in front of the pig, which sniffed and ate it with relish.

The other prisoners moaned.

She motioned for her Lieutenant to come to her side, which he did with alacrity. "Have his wound cauterized, and bind the prisoners securely. We'll finish the patrol with them, and bring them back to the Lord for his pleasure."

He smiled evilly, and saluted. He barked orders for a fire to be built, which was used to heat Nanso's former sword enough so it would cauterize his wound cleanly.

She walked back to her Warstrider, and stood still, waiting for the prisoners to be bound and ready for travel. They were tied with a chain made of the same soulsteel as her armor and weapons were made of, guaranteeing that they would not escape their bonds, as the burnished and beaten souls within the metal would tighten excitedly if the prisoners tried to escape.

The circuit for her patrol was finished in a little under a week more, after which the prisoners were marched by her regiment swiftly to her Lord's demesne, and held on the parade ground while she marched up to his throne room to make her report.

She quickly reached his throne room, being intimately familiar with the twists and turns of the passages within his castle, and fell on one knee in front of him, head bowed. "We have returned, my Lord. An insurrection was instigated by the survivors of the reprimand we gave the town Hashald, who managed to gather townspeople from several nearby towns to begin another insurrection. They have been dealt with properly, and their leaders are here for your pleasure."

The Mask of Winters sighed happily. He had felt the death that befell the townspeople, which gave his dark being a little Essence, but having prisoners here to torture and kill by his own hand was exceedingly pleasurable. He would torture them until they gave all the details of their pointless and ineffective rebellion, and then feed on their dying Essence. "Bring them to my feeding chambers, General."

She stood, and sliced her right wrist in salute, allowing a few drops of blood to spill to the floor before the wound closed. "At once, Lord." She marched off to the parade ground, and told the majority of her troops, save for her officers, to take a bit of shore leave. She and her officers led the prisoners to their Lord's feeding chambers. While she did not give any physical indication, she emotionally shuddered whenever she saw the room where she had been tied, drained of blood, and given this spiritual parasite that now lived within her, whispering and pleading for her to kill for his pleasure. Besides being very uncomfortable at the time, having to listen to his insane prattling every once in a while was somewhat wearing.

She and her officers saluted their Lord before leaving the prisoners there, and closing the doors. They returned to their individual chambers. One by one, she felt the prisoners be tortured and eventually die. One of the gifts accorded to her as being Exalted of the Abyss was feeling the physical pain and death of others around her for quite a radius. Despite her training and new outlook on life, it still unsettled and excited her at the same time, though she suspected the excitement came from the Exalted Essence within her.

She took her time getting undressed, carefully polishing and cleaning her weapons and armor. Though it was a little thing, she allowed herself to enjoy the pleasure of sleeping in a bed. She drifted off to sleep, feeling the last of the failed insurrectionists die. It made her feel oddly at peace, now that there were no more feelings of pain and death around her, and allowed her to fall into rest.

For his part, the Mask of Winters was pleased once again with his General. She had brought him the leaders of the rebellion, which was an unexpected gift. However, it made him suspicious once again of her. He looked into his scrying vat, filled with the blood of the prisoners, and began his scry. He looked at his General, drifting off to sleep peacefully, unaware that she was being watched.

Yes, there it was. The Exalt Essence within her hadn't bonded completely to her. Something had kept it from doing so, though whether she was keeping it from doing so, or whether the Essence was deliberately holding back from fully bonding with her, he was unsure. In any case, this made him think a moment more on this, since this still did not explain why she exhibited none of the personality traits by the Essence within her. It meant she was very strong-willed, which he wasn't sure he liked in one of his minions. On the other hand, she hadn't done anything that indicated she might be thinking of resisting him or his rule, and he had had her watched very closely by wraiths very adept at making sure their presences remained unknown.

He would keep an eye on her for the next few decades, before and after his plans to capture the surface town Thorns were realized and completed. Work was already underway for his attack on the surface town. If he struck swiftly and strongly enough, it would generate enough despair to form a small Shadowland: a link between the Underworld and the Surface world to form, allowing him easy access to the surface world afterwards.

He smiled. Oh yes, things were proceeding nicely.


	6. When the Third Eye Looks Back

The dream came once again, and much faster this time.

Kale had lay down to sleep, and fallen completely within the arms of dreams...and then the unreal dream came once again; the kind where he wasn't sure if he was awake thinking he was dreaming, or dreaming, thinking he was awake.

He had gone to sleep lying on his side, using his satchel as a pillow. He opened his eyes, and there she was - sitting cross-legged, right in front of him. She wasn't glowing like the sun this time, but the glowing golden thin circle was still visible on her forehead. She was smiling softly at him. He wasn't all that surprised when she spoke.

"Hi, Kale. I'm Melia, and I've been waiting quite a while to speak with you. Is now a good time?"

He sat up, and looked her in the eyes. He realized that she was shorter than he had previously thought; even though both of them were sitting down, he was looking down to look her in the eyes, just as she was looking up to meet his gaze. Not quite sure how to answer this strange woman of his dreams, he finally answered "Yeah, I can talk to you now. Am I dreaming?"

She laughed, a sound not unlike the tinkling of silver-tongued bells. "Yes Kale, until we get to know one another better, the only time I can speak with you is in your dreams." She smiled with a hint of impishness at him.

He felt reassured by her presence, though that smile of hers made him a bit nervous as to what was on her mind. However, he nodded at her comment. "What's that mark on your forehead? Are you an Anathema?"

This time she laughed loudly, leaning her head back as she did so. She finished, but was still giggling a little. "Yes, that's what the close-minded Dragon-Blooded call us. They tend to lump all types of Exalt except for them into one evil category." She chuckled again. "They're scared of us, though they'll never admit it."

Kale leaned back slightly, concerned. He had heard stories from the merchants in Thorns about how the Dragon-Blooded soldiers had come through sometimes, hunting the Anathema. Their stories had painted them as demons in human flesh, wishing nothing but death and corruption on honest, hard-working people. However, Kale and his parents had always been a bit suspicious of this view, since the Dragon-Blooded soldiers who walked through were by far and large selfish, loud, and arrogant; it made them all wonder if it was some propaganda. However, his parents had always warned him about the Anathema; the stories the Dragon-Blooded spread about them might be lies, but then again, they might have some measure of truth to them as well.

And yet, here was one in the flesh...or at least, in his dreams. If she was capable of visiting with him in his dreams, she was capable of killing him in his dreams as well, but she had made no move to do so. In fact, she scooted herself a bit further back, as if to reassure him.

She smiled warmly at him. "I'm not here to hurt you, Kale. I've been watching you for about ten years now, and I decided that now was the time to speak with you about certain things."

He felt somewhat calmer about her now, though the thought that she'd been watching him for a decade was a little discomfiting. "About what?"

"Well, first off, you should know a few things. I am a Solar; a child of the Unconquered Sun." Her back straightened slightly, and she seemed slightly more regal. She was obviously proud of this. "The Dragon-Blooded were once our soldiers, our generals, our fighting people. We originally ruled this world with righteousness, justice, and love." She looked at her hand, her smile gone. "We still don't know precisely why the Dragon-Blooded revolted at the same time, and killed us all. Oh sure, for every one of us who fell, legions of them died; we sold our lives dearly."

She stood up. Relating this was obviously a little painful for her. She began walking, and motioned Kale to stand and walk with her, which he did. He was briefly amused at how short she was; the top of her head barely reached his chest. She continued. "In those days, we had become a bit drunk on our power, for the most part. Oh, I speak generally; there were those of us who didn't give in to decadence." She stood a little straighter. Kale guessed that she was one of the ones she mentioned, at least in her opinion.

"Did we deserve to have our power stolen, memories of us changed and painted as evil, and have our very beings imprisoned by those who had betrayed us?" She shook her head. "I still don't know. However, I do know that quite a few of us escaped back into this world, ready to bring back some measure of peace to the world. If we have to slay the ones who would oppress the innocent, then so be it."

She stopped, and looked up at him, until her gaze met his eyes. "I should clarify - The Dragon-Blooded, as you know, have Exalts in their family line. If two of them have children, that child has about a one in ten chance of Exalting and showing that the power of the elder Dragons run in their veins. It's also why they're the most numerous, and have always been so, even when I last lived."

Kale's eyebrow quirked at this. She didn't leave off, but explained her last comment to him without him having to ask. "The other Exalts, on the other hand, do not. The Children of the Unconquered Sun, as well as the Children of Luna, choose a successor after they die. Sometimes we just spring the power on the person, and other times," she paused, and looked at him with an impish grin, "we ask."

Kale looked at her, confused. "So, you just possess a person, and once they die, you go looking again for someone else?"

She shook her head gravely. "No, it's nothing like possession. I am and appear to you as who I was when I still lived. If you agree to have my power passed onto you, then after you die, you'll be the one to choose a successor; the raw Solar Essence gets passed on, but personalities generally do not."

She looked at the ground. "Of course, the Abyssals are a different story."

Kale looked a bit confused. "Abyssals? Who are they? The name itself doesn't sound all that encouraging."

She gave him a wan half-smile. "The Abyssals are a very recent kind of Exalt. You see, after the Great Uprising, we found that we couldn't roam free; we were dragged by a very strong kind of magic; one we could not fight, into a great Prison of Jade, located in the Underworld. There, all of us were trapped, apparently with the hope that we could be extinguished."

She began walking again, slowly. Kale kept pace with her, hoping she would continue. She did, after a slightly dramatic pause.

"The husks of the Malfeans, the gods we slew at the very beginning of the first age to make the world safe for people to inhabit, still lived - after a fashion. They were desiccated, decayed - but still living, if what you can call what they are living. They sent whispers to us, whispers preying on our anger at our betrayal. They made promises of power, if only we would fight for and celebrate the cold glory of death."

She frowned. "There were a few of us that were caught in their sweet whispers. They agreed, and were released. There were only eight of them at first. They became the Deathlords, beings who don't even remember what it is to be a Solar any longer. Indeed, they no longer are, by any stretch of the imagination. They are second only to the Malfeans in power, now."

"The Malfeans kept whispering after a time, but the rest of us wouldn't listen - at least, not at first. Five more gave in after a time, and became the younger Deathlords. One of them, the Mask of Winters, created and released the Great Contagion that slew nine out of every ten people, including your parents."

Kale gasped. He had never dreamed that the sickness was created. He wasn't quite sure he believed this woman, for she told him a rather outlandish tale, of dead gods, and different kinds of Anathema. He kept listening though.

She continued. "Eventually, the whispers changed. The whispers told us that because we had waited, we couldn't gain the power that had been granted the other 13, that we would be subservient to them, but we could still gain great power if we gave into the glory of the Abyss; of Oblivion. The rest of us refused."

She looked downcast. "Our refusal must have angered them, for the Deathlords, as they were now in entirety, grew impatient, and wanted servants worthy of them. Perhaps, in the backs of their minds, they were angry with us for not giving in, and wanted to corrupt and subvert us, as the Malfeans had done to them. They cracked open the Jade Prison, and a huge spectral monstrosity tried to grab us as we escaped to freedom. It managed to grab a quarter of those of us that were left, but the rest of us escaped, ready to give the Exaltation again."

She looked up at him, with a solemn expression on her face. "I've been waiting ever since that day for a proper successor; one that wouldn't get drunk on power, one that would use it wisely, and one that would be quite willing to fight back those that wish to cause harm to the innocents of this world." She paused, and looked a little...nervous, perhaps?

She looked back up at him. "I've been watching you for ten years now, Kale. I've watched you grow into a fine man; one I think would be able to wield this power I hold wisely. I offer this power to you now. What say you?"

Kale looked a little taken aback. "I...I'd need to think about it a little more."

To his surprise, she grinned brightly. "I was hoping you'd say that! You see, if you accepted immediately after I told you what I just did, I knew you wouldn't be the right one. If you said no though, I would have left you be." She grinned impishly at him again. "Those that think and plan ahead, before rushing into something; those are the types of people my Caste goes for, Kale."

Kale was more curious now. "Caste? I thought you said you were a Solar!"

She grinned sympathetically. "All Exalts are part of one Caste or another, depending on what kind of Exalt they are, and the Castes are more or less the same between all Exalts, though they have different names. It's not something you choose; it's just where you fit best. I'm a Night Caste Solar. We're the sneaky ones; the hunters, the trackers, the scouts, the messengers," she grinned widely at this point. "And the assassins."

Kale raised his eyebrows. "Wait, you're assassins? Who do you kill?"

She smiled warmly again. Evidently she had no shame whatsoever in killing people. "We go after those who the Solars normally go after; the exploiters of the innocent, the minions of Deathlords now; anyone who would seek to use the innocent for their personal gain, or kill them for their own pleasure. Sometimes, Kale," at this she smiled broadly. "An army would be wasteful, or would get the job done, if sloppily. That's where we come in. After all, sometimes it's far more efficient to simply behead the serpent, rather than have to fight the serpent and it's entire brood at once."

Kale suspected immediately that she had done this more than once, and enjoyed her work unabashedly. She seemed to enjoy the killing itself just as much as the reasons for doing it. Her grin as he thought this seemed to confirm his suspicions.

He was feeling stunned by all this, and a little overwhelmed. He sat down heavily, feeling a little shocked. She sat down in front of him gracefully, with legs crossed, her head tilted slightly to the side as she looked at him with an anxious look. "Kale, are you alright? I haven't overwhelmed you, have I?"

He nodded, his eyes narrowed as he tried to digest all of this. "Yeah, I'm feeling a bit overwhelmed right now. I mean, this is a lot to think about, and I'm still not sure if I believe you."

She smiled, and reached a hand out to place on his shoulder. He couldn't feel any sensation of touch or weight from her hand, though he did feel the warmth of it. "I know. If it makes you feel any better, I felt very much the same way when Kalinda came for me, long ago. I was a scared young girl then, and it took me a while to really feel ready for the Gift. However, she was willing to give me the choice, as I've giving to you."

She smirked. "Most Solars don't, you know. They just give you this grand spectacle of the Unconquered Sun, and intone to their chosen about the glory of the Unconquered Sun, the honor it is to be chosen...and then force the person to Exalt, with no further explanation, training, or anything, just assuming that they'll deal with it, and feel okay with it. In nearly all cases, thankfully, the chosen are okay with it, but have to learn everything from scratch, without the benefit of the previous person's knowledge or experience. They might get brief glimpses of their previous incarnations if they meditate, but not until then."

He looked at her. "So, you can remember your past lives? Their memories, their experiences, and everything?"

She nodded, and squeezed his shoulder. He still didn't feel any pressure or sensation of touch from it, but it did feel a bit warmer, before she let go. "It would make sense that you'd only remember a previous incarnations' memories, but if you're connected enough, you can remember everything from the moment they Exalt until they die. You can't see any memories from before a person Exalts though; only the person in that lifetime will remember that."

Kale looked at her, feeling a little less shocked, but still digesting all this information. However, he was curious. "All this that you mentioned - is it true for only the Solars, or is it the same with the...others?"

She frowned. "I really don't know about the Lunars; they're notorious for not sharing information about themselves. As for the Abyssals..."

She sighed, and leaned back on her hands. "Because of how the Solar Essences were corrupted, they outright can't give someone the Exaltation without their permission. However, because of how the Deathlords are capable of hoarding, and even trading Abyssal Essences, how they get someone to Exalt is a mystery, really. I'm sorry Kale, but I really didn't want to stick around in the Underworld to find out, lest they capture me too."

Kale nodded. That was understandable. If the Solars were held as prisoners, and they had one chance and one chance only to escape, he wouldn't stick around and see what happened to his friends either. He'd feel bad for leaving some of his compatriots behind, sure, but he wouldn't want to stick around and experience what happened to them firsthand.

She looked up, and closed her eyes, her face still to the sky. She opened her eyes again, and looked at him. "Wow, we talked the night away. It'll be sunrise here in a few minutes." She smiled at him softly. "Go enjoy your day, and think about things while you're awake. I'll visit you again tonight, and we can talk more then."

"Alright," said Kale. "But do you promise you won't force anything on me until I say yes, definitely?"

She smiled at him again. "Of course, Kale. I won't force you into anything. You have my word as a Solar."

He smiled back at her. "Thank you, Melia."

She leaned closer to him, the distance between their faces barely half a hand's-length apart, and smiled broadly. "I'll be seeing you in your dreams, my handsome cabbage head!"

And with that, he awoke.


	7. From the Dusty Mind of the Abyss

What were these fragmented images she kept seeing? Looking down at a deeply tanned opal-haired short woman with eyes of jade, with a golden circle on the center of her forehead, who was smiling lovingly up at her. Rosethorne's arms, large, muscular and hairy reached out to embrace this exotic woman, and realized that in this dream, she was a man. She felt a surge of emotion; whoever's dreams or memories these were, he was deeply in love with this woman.

Memories of courting her, wooing her heart over several decades went fleeting by, almost too quickly to understand. Rosethorne realized with shock that these must be the sleeping memories of the Essence within her, before it had been taken by the Malfeans and twisted to become Abyssal. Almost as quickly, the memories began to twist, change, and mutate. In this dream, She/he was screaming to the dark, cloud-covered sky of the Underworld how he swore he'd kill her, his lost love. Such anger and rage...but why?

She forced herself out of these disturbing memory-dreams, and opened her eyes to look at the ceiling of her small, spartan room. She felt the Essence within her still stirring, and screaming softly into her mind. His voice was growing weaker and softer, slowly but surely, day by day, as she herself grew stronger and understood her own capabilities as an Abyssal. She sighed. Soon enough, in a few years, she supposed, his memories and feelings would be completely consumed, and he would finally fall silent. She couldn't wait for this day to happen, where she wouldn't have to put up with his insane ranting, and urging to slay all Solars she could find.

She heard a knock at her chamber door. "The Lord desires your company in his audience chamber. He asks that you come dressed casually." The messenger wraith pulled its head back behind the door, and slowly moved away.

She took a deep breath. Never had he asked her to dress "casually," so she assumed he was asking her to wear a dress, or something equally pointless. She decided to dress in the garments she felt most comfortable within - her armor.

She put on a clean underpadding, and put on most of the armor, leaving off the helmet and gauntlets. The only parts of her bare, pale skin exposed to the open air were her head, and her forearms. That would do nicely. She was tempted to strap on her tiger claw, but decided against it. She did, however, attach the belt with her sheathed scimitar in it, as befit a general.

She walked with her usual deceptively fast pace to her Deathlord's audience chamber. She arrived to see two figures she did not recognize there as well. She strode to the center of the chamber, as usual, and bowed on one knee. "I have come as you have requested, Lord."

Her Lord, the Mask of Winters bade her stand with a casual wave of his hand. "I wished you to meet your two new Deathknight siblings-in-arms." The two she did not recognize fully turned around to face her.

The Mask of Winters indicated the man to her left, who was dressed only in a pair of baggy breeches, with no shirt on, revealing what would be a broad and muscular body, if it weren't for his desiccated and withered left side. He had short, shock white hair, and seemed to be giggling to himself nearly incessantly. Rosethorne successfully hid her quickly growing irritation with this giggling fool. "General Rosethorne, Huntress Clad in the Raiments of Shadow, make the acquaintance of Laughing Doom of the Pure, hailing from the Caste of Dusk."

She nodded to him, and this seemed to make him giggle all the more, though he did manage a curt nod in return. She felt almost insulted that this giggling cretin hailed from the same Caste she did. She noticed with distaste that his eyes seemed riveted on her cleavage.

Before she could snap a reprimand to this laughing fool, her Lord indicated the figure to her right, a willowy woman of average height, who had several stitches on her head, rather than any hair. Her pale, violet eyes were open wide, as if constantly seeing something that terrified her. She was dressed in a moth-eaten, decayed cloak, with the hood lying on her back, unused. "Rosethorne, Huntress Clad in the Raiments of Shadow, make the acquaintance of Greta, Hurricane's Last Breath, hailing from the Caste of Daybreak."

She nodded to this woman, who seemed to look vacantly in her direction before jerkily bowing to her in return. Laughing Doom of the Pure rudely interrupted her musings of this strange pair with a tactless comment, giggling all the while. "Don't worry Rosethorne, you won't have to worry about taking care of your army much longer. I'll take care of it for you!" His giggles to himself increased, as if ecstatic of his arrogant comment.

She slowly turned her head toward him, a lock of her long ebon hair falling across her right eye. She spoke in her usual even-cadenced monotone, betraying none of the annoyance she felt at this upstart. "You are incapable of managing your own words, let alone an army."

He giggled a bit more loudly, and called out to the Mask of Winters, his new Deathlord. "Lord, I shall prove my greatness to you by deposing this maiden who plays at the art of war! Go back to primping and preening to catch men stupid enough to fall into your clutches!" He began walking toward her.

She didn't even bother moving. "I'm giving you one chance to step back. As your Lord and I both know, finding a proper host for an Abyssal Essence is an arduous task, and one I doubt he'd want to undertake again so soon."

He grimaced in rage, giggling as he did so. He pulled a long, rusty dagger from behind, and lunged at her. She simply tripped him, relieving him of the dagger as he fell, and slammed the dagger into his shoulder, twisting it deeply into the floor of the audience chamber. He squealed and giggled with agony. She turned to her Lord, who was watching with amusement. "Lord, what would you have me do with him?"

He motioned for her to let him up. She complied, but didn't pull out the dagger twisted into his shoulder. He stood up, favoring his wounded left shoulder, and groaned as he pulled the dagger out of his shoulder, giggling again only after he did so, though Rosethorne observed with private amusement that his giggling now sounded like the sobs of a small child.

She turned her attention to Hurricane's Last Breath, who was whispering in an unknown tongue to nobody in particular, it seemed. She kept it up, as if maintaining her side of the conversation. Rosethorne hoped she was speaking to a spirit.

The sounds of movement to her left made her focus her senses there, without turning her head to indicate she had heard. Evidently the giggling fool hadn't had enough, since it sounded as if he was about to run at her once more.

She spoke to him without bothering to look in the whelp's direction. "The first limb that comes within three feet of me will be removed."

As it happened, the first limb of his that came within three feet of her was his right leg. With well-practiced economy of motion, she drew her scimitar and chopped off his leg at the upper thigh in the same motion, causing him to sprawl to the floor, moaning in pain between chuckles.

She looked at the wraith, who was always in attendance by the door. "Go fetch the chirurgeon, but don't rush."

The wraith bowed to her, and looked at her Lord, who nodded his permission. The wraith moved silently from the room.

She bowed to her Lord, and saluted him as usual, by slicing open her right wrist. "My Lord, I thank you for the privilege of meeting my new comrades in arms."

She straightened, and prepared to go, but the Mask of Winters halted her with a look. She patiently stood waiting, with the immobility of a statue.

Soon enough, the chirurgeon and her assistant came, and dragged away the alternately giggling and moaning Laughing Doom of the Pure and his now-separate leg, who was followed closely by Hurricane's Last Breath.

Silence once again reigned in the grandly macabre audience chamber of the Mask of Winters. He spoke to his general at last, now that they were alone. "You dealt with him swiftly and mercilessly, as befits a general of my armies. Thanks to him now being an Abyssal, his leg will heal with no limp, though he would certainly not be as lucky if he had been a petty mortal."

Rosethorne continued staying still, unsure of this was a complement or a reprimand.

He continued again after a pause. "You have done what I would have done, were I so weak as to be an Abyssal, and serving a greater being as General of his armies. I want you and your regiment to train tirelessly, as I will need both more experienced in war in a short time. Learn your gifts well, for you will need them."

He paused again, as if considering. "In fact, there's something in my armory that would serve you well, but you must first prove your capability to me, both as strategist and as a true exemplar of the Dusk Caste. An old, weak-minded wraith named Bjorn Stangald has somehow gotten his weak, useless hands on an artifact of the First Age. You must find him, and bring this artifact to me. It matters not to me if he's still in existence, or claimed by Oblivion, but you must bring me this artifact."

She continued staying still, as if carved from marble, waiting for his word. At this, he seemed pleased.

After five minutes of waiting, and feeling uncomfortably as if he were studying her: indeed, staring through her, he finally gave the order.

"Go now."

She saluted him once more, her blood spilling onto the marble floor, saying, "I hear and obey, Lord." With that, she spun on her heel, and marched from the room.

She went back to her room first, to put on the remainder of her armor, and weapons. She then marched to her Lieutenant's room, and told him to gather the regiment once more, which he had done promptly; they were nearly finished gathering in formation by the time she had met them on the parade ground.

Though she privately had no idea where this wraith, Bjord Stangald was hiding, she knew how to find him. "March!" she ordered, and her regiment followed her off her Lord's parade grounds.

The Mask of Winters reflected upon his general for a moment. She showed no hesitation at putting that younger Abyssal in his place, but she still did so seemingly without emotion: hurting him in the way that was most likely to discourage further dissent from him. When he did so anyway, she still didn't kill him, which either showed wisdom or cowardice on her part, though the evidence mostly pointed towards wisdom; she was correct in saying that a good vessel for an Abyssal Essence was difficult to find, especially since Abyssal Essences were so rare, and highly prized by all Deathlords, most certainly including himself.

He felt an insistent tugging at the back of his mind. He knew what this meant. He pushed aside his throne, revealing a twisting, desiccated stairwell into the Labyrinth of the Malfeans. His patron, One Cloaked in Dust, wished to see him.

He moved smoothly through the mind-numbing twists and turns of the Labyrinth. Even so, it took him the better part of an hour to reach the mausoleum where One Cloaked in Dust slept the fitful sleep of the dead gods.

Immediately upon entering, he felt the forceful, painfully grating speech of his Malfean patron in the back of his mind. As always, its voice seemed to vary between screaming at a volume far stronger than a human voice, and a soft, menacing whisper that seemed to entice the listener into throwing one's self into the Abyss. "...sHE hAs NoT boNdED wITh hER eSSenCe, HEr ESSencE. SHe hEArs itS REMorSe, ITs reMORse."

He spoke to the sarcophagus that his patron slept the slumber of the Primordial dead gods within. "Great and powerful One, what does this mean for my plans?"

"...wATCH hEr, WAtcH heR."

He stood for a second, digesting the One's words. He finally bowed to the Malfean's sarcophagus. "I will watch her as diligently as I have in the past, and I will not stop."

"...sHE wiLL bE boON Or BAnE, oR bANe."

"Understood, great and All-Seeing one."

"...lEAvE mE To My drEaMS, mY DREamS."

The Mask of Winters bowed, and left the desiccated god's chamber. His patron did not need to know about his plans for Thorns; nobody needed to know that but him, his massed forces, and the unsuspecting denizens of Thorns, when it was too late for them to matter. As he moved through the constantly changing and moving Labyrinth, and found his staircase back to his audience chamber, he thought more about what One Cloaked in Dust had said amidst its paranoid ramblings. It obviously knew something through its perversion of Rosethorne's Abyssal Essence that he himself did not know. What did it mean by its reference to Rosethorne's Essence's "remorse?" This implied that his patron knew something about his general that he did not, and this annoyed him greatly. He would attempt to find an artifact or wraith capable of seeing past someone's mind and into one's soul, though he would have to bind such a thing carefully; something like this should not give attention where it would be unwise to do so.

Interesting developments, to be sure. His general had already left to find the hapless wraith that managed to find an artifact of the First Age. From his scrying, it appeared to be a simple looking glass, but seemed to seethe with power. This made him crave such a thing, as intact First Age artifacts were incredibly rare.

He had an expression on his face that on any other being would be considered a smile, beneath his ever-present Mask. If his general returned with the artifact within a month, he would reward her greatly. If she took less than two months, he would torture her with great pleasure, before teaching her a few gifts to help her realize his conquest of Thorns. If she took longer than that...well, he had a rather ambitious, if one-legged replacement for her.


	8. Kiss of the Ghost

Kale woke slowly, still not quite believing his dream. It had been so real, though.

His father had been a part of the Immaculate Order's legions, where the Dragon-Blooded officers constantly talked about the danger the Anathema posed to everyone, and how their most sacred duty was to slay them when found. His father never talked much about his days as a soldier, but the fact that he had taken his new wife and moved into the wilderness to be away from everything they stood for once his tour of duty was done spoke volumes.

And now...one of the dreaded Anathema had approached him, in his dreams. She was completely unrepentant about being an assassin, though what she had talked about made him think twice about his original perceptions and beliefs of the Anathema. He shook his head as he corrected himself. The Children of the Sun, she had called the Anathema she belonged to. Good and righteous people, she had said, but as prone to corruption as the rest of humanity. Given their overwhelming power, it was almost surprising that they hadn't succumbed to vice and corruption sooner than they did, from what she told him. Was she overestimating the time it took for them to become indolent?

He still didn't know. He did know that the fact that she watched him all the time made him a little self-conscious. Was she really offering her gift for the reasons she gave? Or was it because all the stories about the Anathema he heard were true, and she just thought of him as corruptible and easily controlled?

He packed up his things, and buried his campfire as he thought. The short answer was that he really didn't know.

He had begun getting ready to travel again, and even begin walking mechanically, without any thought given to it.

But what if all that she had told him was true? He had heard that the Scarlet Empress of the Immaculate Order has been missing for five years now, and the Realm was slowly beginning to fall into disarray. The Order was trying to maintain civility and order in the Realm, but the people of this land weren't satisfied. Unrest was beginning to spread throughout the land; certain kingdoms were beginning to withdraw from the Realm at large, while still paying lip service, so as to avoid the Immaculate Order getting suspicious.

But even when the Scarlet Empress was still around and ruling the Realm, the Immaculate Order constantly taught that the Dragon-Blooded were the superior ones, that ordinary people had to give them the respect that their birthright demanded. Now that the Scarlet Empress was missing, their arrogance was no longer put in check by the Empress herself, which meant that they were much more difficult than before. Since the Immaculate Order ruled however, striking any Dragon-Blooded, for any reason (including an innkeeper trying to beat back one who was trying to have his way with his daughter, Kale remembered) was a death sentence.

What if, even for only a short time as far as human civilization went, the Solar reign was far more just and good than the reign the Dragon-Blooded maintained?

A low growl to his left snapped him out of his thoughts. The wolf had seen or smelled something. He was looking straight ahead and slightly to the left, his ears laid back, and his fur slightly on end, with teeth bared. Kale looked, and saw what the wolf had seen: three men were driving a line of bedraggled and bruised people in a line ahead of them, the people's hands in chains.

Kale ducked behind a rock at the same time the wolf did. The very thought of what these men were provoked the same reaction in him that he had seen in the wolf. These were slavers, driving their "goods" toward Thorns. Some of the people in chains were little more than children.

One of the men called a stop, and spoke to his companions. Kale's sharp hearing picked up what the men were saying, even at a distance of thirty yards.

"Oy, let's take a break, lads. Ah wants to have a bit of fun with the womenfolk afore we travel on."

"Come on, let's just get moving. Remember what happened last time we tried selling "spoiled" property?"

"Ach, Ah'm not gon' hurt them much. Ah jes' likes to see 'em squeal a bit, is all!"

"Yes, that's the problem, ye big lout. They get bruised and broken and such, and are harder to sell just because ya can't keep your thing in your pants long enough to get to town and get to the brothel."

Kale's hand was straying to his bow. Slavery was a fact of life in some places, where parents sometimes sold their children into slavery to avoid having another mouth to feed. It made him feel physically ill, but he understood it intellectually, even if he didn't like it one bit.

Some towns even treated it like indentured servitude, where slaves were treated well, and could buy their freedom from a time. However, the slavers in those places always treated the slaves with respect. These men were not those kinds of people.

However, he was alone, and picking a fight against three hardened slavers wasn't especially smart. As much as he wanted to rush in and free them, he shouldn't when he was alone, with nobody to back him up. However, his hand was tightly holding his bow, ready to yank it off his shoulder and load an arrow in a heartbeat. He had to force himself to take a few deep breaths to cleanse himself of the anger he felt welling up within him.

"Ach, I'll just have one."

"No you won't. You're not touching them."

"Yer not tellin' me whut tae do. I'll gut ye if'n ye talks ta me like that agin', whelp!"

There was a pause, and he saw one of the men turn, and look in his direction. "Hey, ya sees that over there?"

Oh, bloody hell. He quickly looked around for another hiding place. There was a much larger rock a few yards to his right, but he'd be seen running to it. Well, he'd already been spotted. He shifted his crouch as quietly as possible, in preparation to run.

"Oy, you two lads go check it out. It might be another slave for the line, ye knaw!"

"Why do we gotta go look, while you stays here all comfy-like?"

"Because Ah'm gonna feed and water the slaves, ya idjit."

The two grumbled, but started walking in Kale's direction. They stopped and looked back to the third slaver. Kale saw his chance, and bolted from behind the rock without making a sound, the wolf right beside him. He darted behind the much larger rock, and found a ledge on the back of the rock that would serve as an excellent lookout. He quickly climbed up to it. Drat, the wolf would be stuck down on the ground! He turned around to see how he could help the wolf up, when he saw it make a huge leap upwards, and almost make it on the ledge. He smiled as he helped the wolf onto the ledge. He felt a little guilty for forgetting just how far and how high wolves could jump.

He turned his attention back to the two men, who were still trudging in his direction. They looked all around the rock he had been hidden behind just a few moments before, and look at each other, perplexed. "'Ey, let's have a look around. Don't want no spies followin' us and takin' our goods."

The other nodded his agreement, and they looked around. Kale ducked down, so that he was barely visible, with the wolf between him and the rock face. If they didn't look up when they were near the rock itself, they'd never see him.

They looked around as they walked, but Kale noticed they weren't looking up all that much. However, he realized with a sinking feeling that he was perched on the biggest rock in the immediate area. He tried to flatten himself a little more.

The two men wandered over near the rock, but thankfully weren't looking up. They looked at each other, and shrugged. "Musta been a badger or summat."

The other dully nodded his agreement, and the two men began walking back to their companion.

Oh, how cruel the Fates sometimes were. The wolf next to him let loose with what would have been a small fart, had he not been lying right next to the rock face. It echoed. Kale glared at the wolf, but he wore an innocent expression.

The two men stopped and turned around, and to Kale's disappointment, looked up. "'Ey! Whot're ye doin' up there?"

He sat up, abandoning any attempt at being stealthy at this point. "I was passing through, and didn't want to be of any bother to you."

One of them pulled a short sword from his belt. "Well, yer a bother. Come on down, or Ah'll stab yer dog."

Kale smirked. "You'd have to get up here first, and that'll be difficult."

One of the men smiled. It was not a pleasant, "how are you?" kind of smile. He pulled out a few throwing daggers. "Sure you don't want to reconsider?"

Kale tried not to look annoyed. By the time he pulled the bow from his shoulder and nocked it with an arrow, the man could have a knife in his chest. "How about you two gentlemen leave me in peace?"

The larger, and duller, of the two men laughed oafishly. "Oy, a feisty one, is he?"

His shorter companion promptly threw two of the daggers. One missed, and bounced off the rock a foot away from Kale's head. The wolf yipped in pain. Kale learned with growing anger where the other dagger had struck.

He leapt down from the rock, landing in a crouch, and untied the two ties for his greatsword's sheath in the same movement. As he stood up, he pulled the big blade from its sheath, laying it on his right shoulder, holding it with just his right hand. "Last chance. Leave us be."

The bigger man yelled, and ran at Kale. Kale sidestepped the man's thrust of the sword at the last second, and maneuvered to keep the big man between him, and the shorter man with the throwing knives. The man struck again, only to hit air once more. He snarled, and slashed at Kale, leaving him overextended. Kale suddenly raised his right shoulder, which moved his greatsword upward, into mid-air. He gripped it with his left hand, and brought it down straight through the man with brutal force. Without looking down at the man, Kale darted quickly in front of the shorter man with the throwing knives. He heard a wet thud from behind him, followed by a second one.

Kale looked at the shorter man. "You injured my wolf, and healer's supplies are expensive. You'd better give me all your jade to make up for it."

The man, still smiling, tried to stab Kale in the stomach. Kale sidestepped quickly, and beheaded the man.

Breathing slightly heavily both from the exertion, and the anger he felt, he relieved the two men of their possessions, keeping only their jade. "There, now we're even," he said at the men on the ground. Predictably, they didn't answer. He disdainfully wiped his blade clean on their clothes before placing it back into its sheath.

Kale carefully and quickly created a large sling that would hold the wolf from the clothes of the two men that were reasonably clean, and gently eased the wolf down from the ledge. The wolf looked up at him, and then lay down on the ground, unresisting. It knew Kale was trying to heal him.

Kale removed the throwing dagger from the wolf's shoulder, and shaved the wolf's shoulder as well as he could with the knife in his boot, and then anxiously cleaned the wound, just in case the slavers used poison. After being satisfied that the wound was clean, he wrapped it quickly in the former garments of the two slaver men, put the wolf in the sling he had made from their clothes, and put it around his neck. He stood, and began jogging away from the scene as quickly as he could.

After about half an hour of jogging, the reality that he had just taken two people's lives came crashing down on him, and he had to stop. He forced himself back into awareness briefly, while he looked at his surroundings, to make sure he could stay here for the rest of the day and through the night. There was a grove of trees nearby that looked, sounded, and smelled safe. He strained himself to haul both his weight, and the weight of the wolf up with him into the trees, and then made sure both of them were comfortable.

Then he held his knees, and shook, eyes open, the scene of what he'd just done playing through his head once more. Through the depressing thoughts beginning to run through his mind, he was reminded of what his father had said, right after he'd begun learning how to fight with a sword. "I will train you to not have to think of what you are doing. Unsheathing the blade, fighting with it, and returning it to its sheath must become instinct; something you don't think about."

He realized with a start that his father was right. Before he had consciously realized what he was doing, his sword was sitting on his shoulder, the weight of it comforting him slightly before he realized consciously what it was. He had fought in the way he was taught, briefly becoming one with his sword. That helped chase some of the depressing thoughts away, and he leaned out more comfortably on the tree limb, his back to the trunk.

He looked to his right, where the wolf was sleeping now in a makeshift hammock. He patted the wolf, and he made a small whining noise in his sleep, before curling up, catlike.

Kale soon followed the wolf into sleep.

It seemed that as soon as he drifted off to sleep, he was awake once more. He saw Melia sitting on the tree branch next to him, giving him a sympathetic smile, and gently touching his face. As before, her hand felt weightless, but he still felt the warmth of her palm. "Oh, Kale. I wish you hadn't had to kill them, but you took care of yourself, as you must."

He felt and saw her gently move her fingers through his hair. He didn't feel his hair move, but he did feel the warmth of her hand on his scalp. Aren't ghosts supposed to feel cold if they touch you?

She smiled a bit more warmly at him. "I wouldn't have picked you if you were a killer, Kale. You will if you must, but not until then."

He couldn't help but ask. "How come your hands feel warm? I thought ghosts' hands always felt cold."

She smirked. "It's because I'm not a ghost, Kale. I'm a pure Solar Exalt essence now. In some ways, I could be called a ghost, because I'm incorporeal and I'm not alive. But in all the other ways, I'm not. For one thing, it took a curse and foul play to get me stuck in the Underworld." She giggled at this.

He felt himself relaxing. She looked at the wolf, and an expression of sympathy crept over her face. She moved over by the wolf, and gently stroked his fur. He whined again slightly, but still stayed asleep.

Kale forced himself to be a gentleman and not look at her legs as she crouched, and focused his attention on what she was doing. He was mostly successful. She closed her eyes, and put both her hands over the wolf's wound. Her hands began glowing the same soft golden color he had seen on her when he first saw her, and then faded away. She turned back to him with a smile, and then moved gracefully back to the tree limb next to him.

"I know you have doubts, Kale. I don't blame you one bit for having them; were our positions reversed, I'd be suspicious too. However, all I can give you is my word. I've never broken my word to anyone, and I'm not going to start with you. Especially not with you." She resumed stroking his face. It still felt odd to him that he could feel the warmth of her hand, but not the physical contact of her touch, but he relaxed.

She smiled softly at him. "You're the one I picked to succeed me, and carry the responsibility of the Unconquered Sun through another lifetime. I owe you the truth, so you know what you're getting into."

He bit his lip. This was a question that had troubling him all day. "If I say yes, will I still get to see you?"

She chuckled, a little sadly. "No, but you'll hear my voice while you're awake, at least for a while. You won't see me anymore, since I'll no longer exist outside of you."

He looked concerned. "Wait, why only for a while?"

She resumed stroking his face. "Because after I'm satisfied that you've adapted to the Exaltation, and after you've learned enough about your new abilities and responsibilities, I'll finally be able to take my rest."

He blinked at that. He felt...stunned by this, just like the last time he had spoken with her, she who haunted his dreams. She pressed her lips to his forehead, kissing him softly. It still felt strange that he felt only the warmth of her lips, and not the feeling of them.

"You have much to think about. I'll leave you to dream now...no! Wake now, Kale. Wake! WAKE UP!" Her voice turned from tenderness to a shrill urgency in a heartbeat. He snapped awake out of his dream, only to see something he had hoped not to see.


	9. When the Mirror Shows the Shadow

Rosethorne pushed her regiment forward through the last reaches of her Lord's lands, scouring them for the residence of this wraith named Bjorn Stangald. She had found half-leads and half-truths, but all were leading her inexorably toward her goal.

They had been marching for two weeks now, and had eliminated most of the wraiths residing in her Lord's realm as possibilities, leaving the rest of the Underworld to explore. She hoped to herself that this Bjorn didn't call home in another Deathlord's lands, for this would cause...complications.

She now rode, searching in the unclaimed lands, where the outcasts and unwanted ones resided. If one were to travel alone in these lands, it would be inviting danger and calamity to one's doorstep, since the ones who called this scorned and forsaken place home were reviled, even by the cruel and malicious other wraiths. They also tended to band together, though their suspicious natures rarely kept a large group together for long; usually only long enough to accomplish a goal.

She saw something that caught her eye. There was a cave, made of the greyish-black dust and ash that comprised the land of the Underworld. This in and of itself wasn't strange - it was that there were flowers, bright and alive, growing around the entrance. These flowers by rights could not and should not exist here, as the soil of the Underworld was not in any way pleasant for growing things of the World Above. Instinct told her to check here, and so she called a halt. Her soldiers stopped gratefully, the grueling pace she set taxing even the endurance of the wraiths in her service. She turned to her Lieutenant. "Make sure they're ready to leave at a moment's notice."

He saluted her, and bore the news to the regiment. They were predictably unhappy with the news, with some muted grumbling, but they held themselves ready at her order.

Going alone into an unknown place, especially here in the Badlands was usually not a very bright idea, were she anything else but what she was. Her kind were an enigma here in the Underworld: a living, breathing, eating mortal that had been touched and empowered by death and the Abyss itself, and as such, she was more than capable of holding her own.

She decided to be polite, as she wasn't sure whose residence this was, but she had to satisfy her curiosity. She knocked heavily on the steel post set outside the cave for this purpose, and waited. She did not wait long, before a cloaked, and cowled figure seemed to melt out of the cave, and outside.

Its voice was like oiled and torn silk over water. "Ah, right on time. The General seeks the Mirror for her Lord, and this seeking might be granted favorably, depending on the General's thoughts and answers to an old one's questions."

She hid her surprise well. Living as and how she did, it was unseemly to be taken by surprise. "If you are Bjorn Stangald, then I will answer your questions."

The figure shook, with noises that sounded like dusty laughter, and then stood upright, removing its cowl in the process. Unlike most wraiths who looked nothing resembling how they did in life, this one resembled a person is nearly all respects, apart from being a wraith. He had ebony skin, and long, thick braids of hair that was tied back at the nape of his neck. "Aye, I am he. Walk with me on the lookout above my home, that we might speak a while."

With that, he walked with the long-legged, ground-eating strides that befitted someone of his size up the side of his cave, and onto a flattened area on top of it, with benches made of some sort of stone.

He motioned for her to sit on the bench opposite him, and he sat at the same time she did, holding eye contact. He smiled broadly at her, an expression of amusement in his eyes. "So, General. I have answers for more questions than you think, and more questions than you know the answers to. We shall begin with the obvious one. Do you know why you are here, at this precise time?"

She removed her helmet, and sat a bit more comfortably on the bench, to give her a bit of time to think. "The most obvious answer would be that I was asked by my Deathlord to retrieve an artifact of the First Age from you, with no specification on whether you were to be still roaming, or claimed by Oblivion after I've done so."

He chuckled. "Yes, that would be the most obvious answer. But you were looking all around for me, and where I call home. It took you a paltry two weeks to find me. Do you know why this is?"

She took a breath, calming the growing irritation she felt. "I looked here because of the flowers you have growing in front of your cave."

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he stared at her. "And why would such a simple thing captivate your attention so?"

Her expression stayed with her carefully schooled calm. "Flowers like you have growing in front of your cave should not be found in the Underworld, as they are a product of the World Above only."

He smiled, and leaned back, resting his arms on the back of the bench. "Yes, that is true. Living things normally have no place here in the Underworld. The Underworld itself presses down upon the living, suffocating them, robbing them of the spark of life, forcing them to join the quiet peace of death. However, there are various ways, not very well known of course, to cultivate and nurture life, even in this place where the dead are trapped by their own selfish desires."

She narrowed her eyes slightly. "Yes, you're obviously proud of your accomplishment, but you haven't said how you've done it."

He smiled at her, and got to his feet, walking around behind the bench to lean on it with his hands. "I am very old, General. I died and was first trapped here during the First Age, and only the fact that legends are still passed of how I died among my family still gives me strength to move on. They remember me, and speak well of me. I have left most of the torment of being trapped here behind, and I'm preparing to leave this place, and be at peace at last."

He walked to the left side of this small plateau, and clasped his hands behind his back, looking out at the dusty plains below, his broad back to her. "There are two ways of living in this place, General. One is to be infused by the purest essence of this place: Oblivion itself. Life sputters and slowly dies down as a candle flame might, but never completely goes out, kept fitfully alive by the hungry essence of death." He turned, and looked at her directly.

The implication was not lost on her. "So you're calling the Abyssal Exalts a fitful flame of life?"

He smiled, and turned to face her. "Precisely. The tiny spark of life within all of the Exalted of Oblivion will never be truly extinguished, but in time, it becomes a grotesque parody of life itself."

He walked with measured strides to the right side of the flat space above his home, his back to her once again, looking at the ashen plains below. "There is another way, General, the way that those flowers you saw and drew you to me are kept alive. This is to feed it with the things that it would need normally, making substitutions where you must. This is an oversimplification, but it gets the point across."

He turned, and sat down once again on the bench, leaning back, facing her once again. "But what happens when life is supplemented with Oblivion? Is it possible, do you think, to regain the roaring flame of life and Essence it has lost?"

She did not like where this was leading. "To my knowledge, no. It is impossible."

He smiled at her, the way a teacher might smile at a student who is grasping for the answer, but not finding it. "No, General, it is possible. Change must begin from within, embracing the light once again. A hard look at what is within you; all of you must be done. One must face all that one finds there, and let go of where Oblivion embraces you."

She took another breath, calming her once again. "You speak in riddles, wraith. What has this got to do with the mirror?"

He laughed, a deep, rich sound that echoed strongly through the plains. "I can see that you are not yet ready. No matter, the seed has been planted. In time it shall grow."

He chuckled again, and looked at her with kind amusement. "The one who seeks the mirror will not be able to unlock its true potential, as he cannot see all of what the mirror reveals. It shows all of what is reflected within it, and all the layers that normally obscure such a thing."

He got up, and indicated she do the same. She did so, carrying her helmet in the crook of her right arm. "You will have the mirror, General." He reached into his robes, and gave to her a small, flat mirror. It certainly didn't look powerful, it looked like an old mirror treated with abuse, and covered with the dust of misuse.

His voice cautioned her before she looked into it. "Do not look into it unless you are fully prepared to view what it shows you. You are not yet ready to understand what it will show you."

Her voice carried the barest hint of irritation that she was unable to completely mask. "And what would you know of what I am ready to see?"

He smiled at her. "I know many things, but I know of the one who would take my mirror as well. Take your leave now, General, and return your prize to it's new owner."

She tucked the mirror underneath her breastplate, nodded her thanks to him curtly, and strode down to her warstrider, thinking about what he said. She gave the barest hint of a shrug, thinking that he was completely insane, but at least he had taken a shine to her and given her the mirror before she had to rend his being.

She gave the order to move out, and they marched straight back to her Lord's castle, trying to give no more thought to the insane wraith, and mostly succeeding. However, little things began to bother her, such has his comparison of what he called "a grotesque parody of life," and "true life." What did it mean?

She arrived faster than she thought back to the castle, and dismissed her regiment, who promptly went to the tavern. She forced her warstrider into the stable, having to convince it to go back in with a well-timed kick. It was being stubborn and skittish, for some reason.

She strode up the passages to arrive in her Lord's audience chamber, and bowed with one knee at the center. "Lord, I have returned with the mirror you seek."

The Mask of Winters hid his irritation. Why did she have to return so swiftly, and why didn't she just rebel, to give him a chance to discipline her? Despite exemplifying everything he had ever wanted in a General, now that he had a General like this, he was deeply suspicious. She was barely gone three weeks.

"How did you find him so swiftly, General?"

She stood, facing him as she gave her report. "My regiment and I scoured all your lands first to find him, and then searched the Badlands, as it would be preferable to find him there than in another Deathlord's domain; were that the case, it would have complicated matters. He was found in the Badlands, alone, in a cave. He questioned me about inane things, and appeared to be satisfied with my answers well enough to hand me the mirror."

She took out the mirror, strode to the front of his throne, and offered it to him on one knee. He snatched it out of her outstretched hands, and looked into it, seeing only his reflection, with the hint of the Malfean touch within him. This made him smile, and he turned the mirror to look at her, as she walked back to the center of the room, facing him, and standing perfectly still. He saw the outer shell of the human being she was, with the Abyssal Essence within her, lying within her, diseased and corrupted. He put the mirror away. Had he kept looking, he would have seen a tiny spot on the Abyssal Essence within her shining a brilliant golden color, before it was covered up again.

"Very good, General. I made a promise to myself that I would reward you if you performed this task well. I will allow you to select new weapons from within my armory, or research anything you like within my personal library for a period of one week."

She bowed her thanks to her Lord, and spoke her request. "My Lord, I wish something else." Her words surprised him, but he allowed her to continue. "I wish to learn more ways of focusing my Essence to different goals. I wish to learn new skills, and to sharpen the ones I know now, to better serve you by leading your army."

He pursed his lips behind his mask. The Huntress kept surprising him, over and over again. So far, it had always been in beneficial ways, but he couldn't help but wonder when she would spring a malicious surprise on him.

Finally, after keeping her waiting for ten minutes as he thought, he spoke. "Very well. Tell me what you wish to learn, and I will have you taught. But I must ask you, Rosethorne, Huntress Clad in the Raiments of Shadow, why you would prefer this, rather than new weapons?"

"My Lord, I am satisfied with the armaments given me. They have served me well, have not rusted, lost their edge, or been broken in any way."

It seemed that not only was she a constant unpleasant string of surprises, she was also unambitious. He narrowed his eyes at her. "Very well. Dismissed."

She saluted him once more, bowed to him, and then strode from the room. He noticed with a smile that she never hesitated in spilling her blood for him. In fact, as she always stood in the same place, the tile she always sliced her wrist over was slowly getting stained red. He whispered to himself. "Oh yes, Rosethorne. Keep spilling your lifeblood for me, and pleasing me, and you shall keep your army, and your life."

He chuckled, which turned into a cackling laughter. "But, my little perfect weapon, should you ever fail me, your fall from grace will be a long and rocky one. Keep raising my expectations of you, and the further you have to fall."


	10. The Breath of Light

Kale regained his senses to feel a knife at his throat. "There ye are, ye murderin' lout! Thought ye could off two o' my mates and get away with it, did ye?"

He felt his left leg seized in a strong grip. He tried to kick his way free, but the motion only assisted his attacker. He felt himself yanked out of his hammock, and fall down quite a ways to the ground. His thought as he was falling was cursing the fact that he had chosen to sleep so high up in the tree.

He struck the ground hard, and it knocked the breath out of him with a loud gasp. He felt a tree root leap up and strike him hard in the small of the back as he hit the ground, with a muffled crunching noise.

Horrible breath met his nostrils as someone spoke loudly close to his head. "Oy, yer gonna pay, ye whelp!"

He realized that he couldn't move his legs. His eyes were wide open now, seeing only vague shapes in the darkness, one of which stabbed him in the side, and yanked the knife free in a mostly smooth motion. He felt that this was not a sharp and well-kept knife; this was a long, rusty, and dull knife. It hurt just as much going in as it did sawing its way back out.

He heard a snarling from the tree above him, followed immediately by a heavy thudding noise, and a loud curse to his left. "Lads, get this mangy mutt offa me!"

He heard several muffled thudding noises, each punctuated by a sharp whining noise. "That's right mutt, that'll teach ye to bite me!"

Another voice off to his left, the one who had greeted him with the knife, spoke up. "Oy, lads, gimme the lantern, so we can finish this lout off properly!"

Several sharp flashes blinded him, as someone used flint and steel to light a lantern, which sputtered fitfully into life.

Kale knew he could speak, but what could he say? He couldn't get up on his own two feet now; everything below his hips felt removed and numb. Everything above his hips felt like a boiling mass of agony. It was all he could do to clench his teeth together and not scream out in pain. He determined that he wouldn't though, if only to deny these smelly killers the satisfaction.

The lantern was brought to a low-hanging branch stub above him, the branch broken off a few seasons before by a storm, Kale noticed inanely.

The next hour went by alternately quickly and excruciatingly slowly. They had stabbed him everywhere he could feel the wounds, and several places that he couldn't. He had been beaten by heavy oaken clubs. He could barely feel anything anymore. The last thing he felt before he slipped into the sweet arms of unconsciousness was a soft breeze on his skin, over and above the pain he could barely feel anymore.

She greeted him almost immediately. "Oh, Kale! I wish I could have done something, but I couldn't and now you're...oh, by the Sun, stay with me! Come on, you stubborn mule, don't let go yet!"

He saw her above him, leaning and laying partially on top of him. If he weren't still connected to his broken body, he would certainly have enjoyed this moment. Her eyes were filled with tears, and both of her hands were on his face, forcing him to look at her. He still didn't feel her touch, but the warmth of her hands still forced his head to look her directly in the eyes.

"Kale, please, don't let go. Oh, I didn't want it to be like this...Just say yes, Kale, please! Oh, I wished for so much more time, to tell you so much more and teach you so much more about us, about me, about the Exalted, oh Kale, don't let go!"

She was almost babbling in her fear and determination. Why would she appear to be this way as he was dying? Would she still be doing this if he was only a useful pawn for her evil, cruel and heartless Anethema self?

No, the back of his mind answered. She'd have left. She probably wouldn't even have said a word now, except "Well, better luck next time!" Instead, she was with him in the dreams of unconsciousness, pleading with him to stay in the land of the living, to hold onto his body, to hold onto life. But it was getting so dark around him; it was feeling slowly more and more distant...

"Oh Kale, I know you wanted to wait, but there's no time anymore! Oh, I wanted to take so much more time with this, but there's no time now! Just say yes, Kale! Please, let me save you! There are too many wounds for me to heal you now, where I am now. If you say yes, I'll force your Exaltation, and your body will heal itself, whole again. You'll even be able to walk again, just please say yes! Oh, dear Kale, don't let go, don't leave me now..."

In this dream, even though his grip on his body was slowly fading, he made his decision. She was right, and he agreed with her - he would have loved to string this along as long as he could, to find out as much as he could about her, about who the Exalts really were, to make his decision on his own time.

But his own time was nearly up.

In the dream, he made his decision, along with a deep breath. "Okay, Melia. I accept."

She smiled so brightly through her tears, and lay on top of him, and kissed him hard on the forehead. "Thank you, Kale. This is going to feel...very strange at first."

That wasn't comforting. Then she seemed to slowly melt into a very fine golden dust, which melted into him, into his skin, into his body. His skin felt hot from where the dust had touched his skin, and the heat began spreading swiftly throughout his body. He felt it concentrate on his wounds, and on his spine. They felt hotter than ever, and to his shock, the wounds were closing. What would have taken weeks to heal completely, had he lived, was taking seconds now. He felt his lower back pop into place. His legs hurt...but he could feel them now. They swiftly stopped hurting, and the hot feeling began spreading evenly throughout his body, feeling like it was touching every pore of his skin, every particle of hair, every callous, every scar. It began growing hotter, and hotter still. It didn't hurt, which is what surprised him, but it felt very hot, as if he were laying too close to a fire, but all over his body.

He awoke.

He lay where he was, sprawled in a heap just like before. He didn't move his head, but he saw that the bloody patches on his clothes hid completely healed wounds now. The heat began growing stronger, and feeling like it was collecting in his heart, while still heating his body.

He began hearing a dull, faint roar. It grew swiftly louder, and louder, and his body felt suddenly like it had exploded, though he still felt whole. He saw the same golden nimbus of light around him as he saw around Melia when he had first seen her, but this was brighter, though slightly darker in color; more deeply golden than hers had been.

This had not escaped the almost-murderers' notice, as they were bent over, digging through his pack. "Wot the 'ell..." Their eyes grew wide as they looked at him. "Anathema! He's one o' the bloody Anathema!"

They bravely pulled their weapons again, and prepared to rush at him, but to their surprise, his body began floating above the ground, his body tilting so that his legs were pointing at the ground once again, and his head raised to the sky. The glow grew brighter, and flashed suddenly...and was gone. Kale landed on his feet.

Kale felt...he struggled to find the words. It felt like pure energy was running through his veins, thrumming with power, with a furious drumbeat. It felt like there was a soft, exultant melody coming from his body that was just out of the range of hearing. Then, he realized that he was still not alone here. His eyes snapped open, looking directly at those who would have slain him.

With wild yells to encourage themselves and to attempt to frighten him, they rushed at him.

Time seemed to slow down, to Kale's eyes. He moved his hand, and it was moving at nearly normal speed, though the thugs were running at him in slow motion. He was not slow in taking this to heart.

He ran at the first thug, and grabbed his arm that held a rusty short sword. Yanking the thug's arm backwards, he kicked the thug from behind in the back of the head, and held onto the short sword, looking at the others.

They seemed to move so pathetically slow, that he dodged their attacks easily, not bothering to strike back. He was just enjoying this feeling so much. A few minutes ago, he was ready to die, but now...now he felt more alive than he ever had.

He saw his greatsword lying by the tree. Ducking into a graceful roll to dodge one of the thugs' attacks, he finished near the sword, picking it up.

It felt lighter than it had before, more graceful. With one hand, he raised the blade and pointed it at the thug who had first pulled him out of the tree. He began to run directly at the thug, his legs pumping furiously. He reached the thug in no time, almost. He drew the blade back, grabbed the lower hilt with his left hand, and swung as hard as he could upwards. He was surprised that the blade moved so swiftly through the thug. He brought the blade around in an unbroken motion straight down through the other murderer.

Nothing but silence greeted his ears now, with no more movement around him. The wild thrumming of energy started to slow down, at the same time as the adrenaline in his body began to stop flowing.

He saw the wolf. He dropped the blade and raced to the wolf's unmoving side. He wasn't breathing; the blood had dried all along his body in a coagulated mass. Tears filled his eyes as he gently touched the wolf. "I'm so sorry I couldn't save you. Please forgive me, wherever you run now."

He spent the next solemn hour digging a proper grave for the wolf, saying goodbye to this companion who had only been with him a short time, but had hurt him so much by his loss.

He dug a pit for the slavers and kicked them in after taking his things back along with all their jade, giving them no ceremony.

After he had finished filling in the graves, he collapsed on the ground, in complete shock. Not only had he slain two more people, but he had lost two friends in the span of an hour.

_I haven't left you yet, Kale._ He heard Melia's voice, and looked around wildly for her. He heard her tinkling laugh. _No, silly. I'm within you now. I'll be with you once you're ready to be on your own, and then...then I'll sleep._

"You saved me, Melia. You saved my life, but you didn't save the wolf's life."

Her voice sounded hesitant, and a little guilty. _I'm...sorry, Kale. I wasn't thinking about the wolf at the time. All I could think about was that someone I had at first marked as a good successor, and had grown over time to be someone I really liked hanging around was dying...I'm sorry for that, but I was much more preoccupied with you than the wolf._

He smiled a little. "I understand. Do I always have to talk to you like this?"

He heard her tinkling laughter again. _No, of course not, silly! People will think your mind has gone. You can think back, as long as you focus on my face as you do so, and I'll hear you._

He looked serious again, as he concentrated on her face. _There, can you hear me?_

He could almost see her grin. _Yes, dear Kale, I can hear you. Speak what's on your mind; I know there's something!_

He looked serious once again. _Okay, good. Now, what the hell am I?_

He briefly saw her smile sympathetically in his mind's eye. _You are now an Exalt of Sol, a Child of the Unconquered Sun. Your caste is Night, which suits you, I think. Your abilities, and the way the energy is flowing within you seems to gravitate towards doing what you've always done - be silent, be watchful, and be swift._

He began pacing as he thought. _Alright, so I'm of the Caste of Night, even though I'm a Solar Exalt. Right, that makes complete sense._ He couldn't help but be a little sarcastic.

He heard her chuckle. _I know, it seems a little silly, but it makes sense once you know of the others. The Dawn Caste are the generals and all-around best combatants. The Zenith Caste are our spiritual back, giving us founts of strength and the spirit to carry on when all others have dropped back, exhausted. The Twilight Caste are the learned ones, the ones who seek the most hidden of knowledges; they also craft the very best stuff. There's us, and we get the job done with stealth, guile, and wits. Well, and sometimes a sword or bowshot in the dark. And there's the Eclipse Caste, who are the beaurocrats and negotiators with pretty much everything._

He frowned a bit more. _I hope you're not expecting me to be an assassin, like you, Melia._

He felt her smile. _No, Kale. Your path is your own. I was a city girl in my lifetime, and I lived and learned what I was best suited to. You're much more at home in the wild, so I think that will be your path._

He couldn't help but feel more frustrated. _I know you just saved my life, Melia, and I'm grateful - don't think I'm not. But I just killed more people today. Is that what being Exalted means? A taker of life, because one has more power?_

Her touch on his mind was comforting, soft, and delicate. _No, the Essence awake within you now is neither good nor evil; well, it leans toward good, just because of what you are. But it's what you make of it, Kale. It's how you use it that determines whether it's good or evil._

He remembered what his father had taught him about using the sword: how the sword was neither good nor evil, that the intent of the wielder decided that. He found the same thing was true here. That power in the form of either a sword, or being Exalted was either good or evil, depending on how it was used. He felt a bit better.

Her voice softly broke into his thoughts. _I know your mind's in turmoil right now, and I'm sorry again that we didn't have more time to talk this over before you Exalted. But there are those who can feel a new Exalt being born, as it were. You have much to learn about your new abilities, and not much time to do it._

He nodded, realizing that despite being woken up, and nearly killed, and losing his wolf companion, he didn't feel all that tired. _Alright. Let's begin, Melia. Teach me what I need to know._

He felt her smile brightly. Somehow, he felt that despite what a very strange night he'd had, things would be okay.


	11. The Gathering of the Abyss

For the past month, Rosethorne had pushed herself, and been pushed by ghostly instructors even further. The first two weeks weren't too tiring, as she was learning about how to inspire people; whether she inspired fear or respect made little difference, as long as she could inspire it within the troops she led. After all, if your troops are more intimidated by their general than by the opposing force, then they'll fight that much better.

The next two weeks were spread amongst more combat training, and learning the art of medicine - a highly useful combination, she felt. Half the training she underwent was learning the specific skills in question, and the other half was a bit more difficult and alien - learning how to properly channel her Essence through the skills she used. She had learned not too long after she became a Child of the Abyss that the Essence within her strengthened the intent of what she tried to accomplish with an almost gleeful feeling.

As she was waking up the evening of her Lord's announcement of...well, of what she wasn't sure, she reflected on this, and what she had learned about this strange energy that lived within her, sustained her, and protected her. It seemed to reflect the spiritual half of the universe in a way; whenever she performed an action with a specific and immediate result in mind, such as beheading someone, the Essence within her was able to make the strike more swift, more sure, and more precise. It seemed that her intuition was her conduit to using this strange wellspring of energy.

One thing she'd never quite get used to, no matter how often it happened, was the cold, frozen, deathly feeling she got whenever she used it. She'd barely even admitted this to herself, let alone others, but the reason she avoided using this energy to supplant her own considerable skill was because it felt as if someone was walking over her grave whenever she did so. Even though doing so could cause reproducible effects by doing a specific action the proper way and with the proper intent, it still felt as if someone were walking over her grave when the energy within her surged and awoke.

She sighed. She knew she had an hour until she and all the other Abyssal retainers for her Lord would be gathered in his throne room for his announcement. She had always wisely kept her feelings to herself about the other four, but she despised three of them, and secretly wanted to be personally responsible for their untimely demises, preferably at the same time. The fourth never talked much, and kept to himself, mostly. She certainly wouldn't call him a friend, but she considered not wanting to have his head mounted and stuffed on her wall immediately to be better than what she wished for the other three. He didn't talk to her, and she didn't talk to him - a very equitable arrangement, she felt.

Unfortunately, since this was a formal occasion, it would be frowned upon for her to come in armed and clad in her armor for this. Well, it would be frowned upon by that stupid yapping serving-wench who somehow became an emissary for the Abyss. Why her Lord had chosen her to contain the essence of the Moonshadow, she'd never know. What she did know was that she was loud, irritating, and overzealous enough - well, about anything she was feeling zealous about at the time - that Rosethorne's hand always semi-consciously strayed to the ornate bone handle of her scimitar whenever she had to be subjected to that stupid woman's mindless prattling. She privately suspected that the only reason her Lord granted some of her suggestions was because she wouldn't be silent about them until he either granted her request to shut her up, or had her dragged into his quarters to torture some respect into her. Rosethorne didn't think torture was all that useful, as well as being blatantly inefficient if you're just going to kill the subject anyway, but when it came to the beaurocratic cretin, she couldn't help but reconsider briefly.

Coming clad in a dress, with her hair tied up, and wearing "proper attire" was more than a little abhorrent for her. She had polished her armor that evening already, and besides - it was an outfit proper for a general. It showed that her job in her Lord's hierarchy was to lead armies against her Lord's enemies, and to cut a bloody swath through them. She admitted, she was quite good at her job.

She decided to give one concession, and that was her helmet. She'd come in with her hair down and loose, which was as feminine as she felt comfortable with. After all her job wasn't to look alluring and pretty for guests; that was the hussy's job.

She felt a pang of regret as she saw her twin-clawed khatar lying on her table. It looked so forlorn and alone without it's companion, her scimitar. It had served as both her shield and weapon for a few years now, and was as familiar to her as her own hands. However, she couldn't justify bringing it to the assembly; her blade would have to be enough.

She sighed again, and began marching with long, measured strides to the audience chamber. She thought at first that she was the first of the Deathknights to arrive, until she saw Noro leaning unobtrusively against a pillar near the rear of the room. He nodded to her slightly as she entered, and she returned the gesture. She walked to the center of the room, and stood as still as a statue. In the dim light of the room, her hair and her armor made her seem to blend in perfectly into the gloom, making her hand and face, the only parts of her body uncovered, seem at first to be hovering apparitions. Her blue eyes only seemed to accentuate this effect.

The next to arrive was the crazy one; the new Daybreak she had been introduced to only a short time ago. She seemed aware of her surroundings, which was good. She apparently had forgotten that a bloody white apron was tied around her waist, which was amusing. She carried a leather bag with her, the contents of which clacked together curiously as she walked. In fact, she walked to the left middle of the room, and began pulling out human thighbones out, and using some strange magic, forcing them to stick together, until she had made a chair of them. She pulled out a human skin, and using the same technique she had for the bones, fastened it as both chair backing and seat padding. Once finished, she inspected her work carefully, and then sat down, satisfied. Apparently, she'd been studying her craft.

Five minutes passed slowly, as everyone silently waited for the remaining two to arrive. It surprised nobody except Rosethorne that they entered together, with the slutty beaurocrat talking loudly and obnoxiously. Apparently, Rosethorne had missed a few happenings here, but she didn't feel all that upset about it.

"Oh, and do you know what he had the gall to do to me? He was staring at my chest the entire time, as if it were more important than what I was saying!"

The irony that her companion, the idiot who had so stupidly attempted to attack Rosethorne when they first met, was also staring at the hussy's chest as she spoke made it difficult to keep a straight face.

"Yeah," he agreed brilliantly.

"He even said that if we'd consider a trade agreement with them, that part of the deal had to be a night with me. For the good of our good Lord's kingdom, I agreed, but I left right afterwards, citing other business that needed attending. Of course, the other business was his rival kingdom from the North, who...oh look, everyone's here early!"

The voice of their Lord, the Mask of Winters, made them all fall silent. Including the brainless prattling wench, which was no small bit of magic, Rosethorne thought.

"No, Kaesta, you and Laughing Doom are both five minutes late to this meeting. The fact that you were talking and laughing on your way here made it clear to me that you did not have a valid and pressing reason for your tardiness, which makes me...very displeased."

The wench was actually paying more attention to her hair than to her Lord when he spoke, which surprised Rosethorne with the sheer thoughtless audacity of it. "Oh, the poor dear got himself tangled up in his new humanskin pants, which he had just finished dying a proper black color, and he was having such trouble getting them off that I just had to help him. Oh, and then..."

She was interrupted by her Lord speaking to her in a tone that would have frozen oceans. "In other words, no armies were attacking you, no rogue wraiths stole all your possessions, and you are unharmed. If I am to understand you correctly Kaesta, you kept me waiting five minutes because Laughing Doom was having difficulty with the simple act of putting on his pants, which is something every child learns to do by the age of four. You and he will wait after the assembly is over, and I would...speak with the two of you alone."

The others in the meantime had gathered to stand shoulder to shoulder in the standard fashion. Greta, Rosethorne noticed, left behind her chair.

He took a deep breath. Rosethorne knew that since her Lord was nothing even resembling human or Exalt anymore, he didn't need to breathe to stay alive. However, it seemed that taking a deep breath gave him a measure of calmness, for he continued. "Step forward, state your name and Caste."

Rosethorne stepped forward after a second of seeing nobody else do so. "My Lord, I am Rosethorne, Huntress Clad in the Raiment of Shadow. I am of the Dusk Caste. My blade is yours to command."

She saluted him in the formal fashion, which included the standard cutting of her wrist to let the blood flow freely, but she drew in a small amount of ambient Essence and used it to make her caste mark become prominent on her forehead. Hers was a black ring with twelve evenly distributed spokes all around it, the energy she channeled into it made it open and bleed a little. She bowed, and stepped back into line.

She saw Noro step forward immediately after her, and speak with a voice sounding like a low wind through a dead forest. "My Lord, I am Noro Velos, The Bloody Hand, and I hail from the Caste of Day. I am yours to command." He also saluted in the standard fashion, his caste mark showing nothing but a black ring on his forehead, before bowing and returning to line. He wore very loose-fitting leather pants and leather moccasins, with a long cloak covering his shirt. He had short shock-white hair that stood straight up, unlike the rather haphazard spikes Laughing Doom put in his.

A lilting, distracted voice spoke next. "My Lord and conduit for the beautiful power of the Malfeans, I am Greta, Hurricane's Last Breath, of the Daybreak Caste. My tools, my knowledge, and my victims are yours to command." She saluted like the others, her caste mark appearing as a black ring with the upper half black as well, but seemed momentarily fascinated and delighted with the blood coming out of her arm that she forgot to bow to her Lord and step back into line for a few moments. She licked the blood happily off her arm once she had done so. She evidently hadn't noticed a few droplets spill onto her white sleeveless shirt and surgeon's white pants, but considering the amount of blood still drying on her apron, Rosethorne didn't think it mattered much. Greta seemed to cling to sanity like a drowning woman might cling to someone who had murdered her entire family in front of her eyes.

Everyone heard Kaesta stage-whisper to the man beside her. "Go on darling, it's your turn next." Rosethorne felt her left hand begin to stray to the handle of her scimitar, and she had to consciously force herself not to.

He stepped forward, wearing nothing but the afore-mentioned leather pants, flexing as he yelled out in a voice far louder than necessary. "Lord, Sir! I am Laughing Doom of the Pure, and I'm from the powerful Dusk Caste! I'll kill anyone you tell me to!"

His caste mark flared as well, being the same as Rosethorne's, who felt slightly angry and ashamed of having to share this caste with this fool. He hesitated slightly before applying his curved dagger to his wrist, bowed unsteadily, and stepped back into line.

Rosethorne next heard the voice that grated on every nerve of her body. "Lord, I'm Kaesta, Pactkeeper to Malfeas, and a Moonshadow."

Her reddish robes flowed about her as she stood there. She wore nothing underneath them, a simple chain holding the sides of her robe together. She made her caste mark, a black ring around a black circle, appear. With an air of ill-concealed boredom, cut her wrist in subservience to her Lord as well before stepping back into line.

The Mask of Winters stood, his silver and grey cloak billowing around him as he did so. He paused for a moment, looking at each of them intently in turn. "My children, soon the town Thorns in the world above will be within my grasp. Preparations for this undertaking are nearly complete. Already the once-mighty Juggernaut has bowed its will to me, and its decaying and mobile corpse shall be my staging ground for the assault. To this end, I have tasks for each of you.

Kaesta, you will go to the town ahead of me and prepare the people there for my arrival. Fill them with despair, and a longing for death, which is something you're quite skilled at doing."

Yes, Rosethorne thought. All she has to do is talk to them, and half of them will cut their own ears off to stop listening to her out of sheer desperation.

"Greta, prepare my war machines from the corpses you've lovingly collected and crafted over the past few months. Use all the creativity and skill you have to make them as efficient and deadly as possible."

He turned to the far right, where Noro stood. "Noro, go to Thorns ahead of Kaesta, and subtly reduce their chances of winning. Don't assassinate anyone this time; we need to lull them into complacency first."

Noro nodded once.

Their Lord turned to Laughing Doom of the Pure. "While the rest of us do what we must, you have command of the forces remaining to defend my fortress. Do not fail me."

Rosethorne saw to her dismay that Laughing Doom looked entirely too pleased at this.

He at last turned to her. "Rosethorne, General of my armies. You shall lead the assault on Thorns and the outlying areas. Once I give you the orders to do so, cause enough death so that a new Shadowland will appear. Do your job adequately, and this Shadowland will permanently connect Thorns and my kingdom."

She felt pleased. She didn't show this, however, and nodded once instead. She couldn't help but notice that Laughing Doom was barely concealing his own jealousy and rage at this. It was a good thing for him that he stayed silent, however.

"You each know what you must do, I will send for you each in turn to discuss deeper planning in due time. Until then, hone your own abilities, as you are representatives of my kingdom, and how well or how poorly you perform your assigned tasks reflects upon me, as your Lord."

He paused again, looking around at each of them in turn from behind his deceptively simple-looking mask. "You may go."

Rosethorne turned on her heel, and began striding for the door, when she felt someone have the nerve to actually grab her arm. It was Kaesta, unsurprisingly. No other would be so foolish.

"I can't believe you wore your dirty old armor to this! Don't you have any sense of decency or style?"

Rosethorne looked pointedly at the large expanse of female flesh Kaesta had uncovered on her own body, before looking down at her eyes once again. "I'd wear your skin with your clothes over it, Kaesta, but you're not tall enough."

Rosethorne heard Kaesta's outraged gasp of indignation as she strode from the room. As she walked back to her room, she couldn't help but smile. A real war, hmm? So, her Lord wished to make his mark in the world above, now, and he wanted her to lead the army. She had been preparing for such a task her entire existence as an Exalt; she was more than ready. Of course, she would train between patrols just as hard as she had in the past month to ensure that she was completely ready.

Over time, she understood more and more why she was so well suited for the Dusk Caste. There was a subtle beauty and art to be found amongst the dying on a battlefield, and a beautiful art to causing them as well. It made her feel alive like nothing else. This she admitted was ironic, considering the nature of the Oblivion-touched Essence ebbing and flowing within her body.

That she had to occasionally put up with dealing with others like her was a small price to pay for being able to lead an army against the foes her Lord pointed her toward. She had to admit though; sometimes she imagined Kaesta's vacant-expression on the people she put to rest, which had the reaction of causing her to strike much harder than she needed to.

So, it appeared she was useful for something after all, if only for inspiration.


	12. Revelations of Sun and Death

Kale stood alone on a dusty rock mesa at sunrise. The formerly dark land was shimmering with the sun's heat chasing away the chill of the night before it. He stood exactly ten miles from where he became an Exalt. His sword was in his hands, and he was going through the motions of the Edge Greets The Dawn kata.

Waist-level slash, spin, slash diagonally and down, follow through to a circular parry, come back up with a diagonal upward strike. The motions always made him feel at peace, especially now when he was strong and quick enough to keep a good rhythm going with the heavy sword. He performed each step as smoothly flowing into the next, never slowing or stopping.

It had been six months ago today that Melia passed on the Solar Exaltation to him. True to her word, she had stayed with him, and fought off the lethargy that came with giving the power to another, long enough to help teach him what he needed to know. They had run into differences of opinion and of skill several times over the past few months, as she had primarily lived and operated in a city, whereas he was far more used to the wild areas. Even as their different experiences led to different forms of expertise, they still definitely shared some common ground.

The concept with the name of "essence" describing the burning energy within his body was still a little strange, especially because there was the Solar Essence that gave him his newfound abilities, and the essence as pure spiritual energy, but he was slowly becoming more comfortable with it. Melia's words echoed in his mind as his body automatically kept the motions of the kata going, to help his mind focus.

" _Everyone has a small amount of Essence within them. Exalts like you and I can draw upon the inherent Essence of the world around you; the stronger your connection to the aspects of the world and yourself, the more you have within you, and the more you can draw from the world without._ "

" _However, this extra Essence comes with a price - your body and Exalt nature cannot process the un-aspected Essence around you as well as it can what you already have within you, so your anima will flare when you use external Essence._ "

He remembered asking after a brief pause. "...Anima?"

" _Think of it as your aura; the patterns of subtle energy that surround every living thing, and reflect what the connection between body and soul is at that particular time. Since your body cannot process the un-aspected essence around you as well, waste energy is channeled through your anima. The more you use, the brighter it glows, and as you can imagine, it's hard to sneak around when you're glowing like an exploding lantern._ "

He remembered raising a skeptical eyebrow at this. "You mean it'll be bright enough to read by at night, if I use external essence?"

" _Oh yes. Use enough, and you can be seen for miles._ "

That certainly made him think. Thankfully, she taught him a few tricks that came easily to his caste, such as suppressing the anima flare that came from using external essence, though ironically enough, it meant using more. Of course, the fun use of this same ability could make the world around him help him stay hidden; shadows got a little darker around him, the sounds he made became muffled, and other little other useful things. It wouldn't necessarily help him hide if he got caught, but it would help him not get caught in the first place.

Then came the next revelation - how that essence could be used. He had already felt it surge within him and help him when he tried to do something. It came naturally, though this was an unfocused thing. If he were to focus on doing a task at hand, whether it was as simple as swinging a sword, or as involved as evading detection, there were tricks he could use with his essence to help him.

Melia had taught him quite a few accepted tricks that she had learned from other Solars when she was alive; rote ways of using essence to help accomplish a particular task. Kale quickly grew to understand why the Solars were feared so; if it weren't for the innate desire of their Exalt Essence to do good for others, the devastation they could cause was staggering.

" _Yes, so imagine what would happen if even a small group of experienced Abyssals were turned loose on this world_ ," Melia had commented. That certainly took him aback; the thought was sobering. He remembered asking in a very offhand way, to hide his concern, how likely this was.

" _It's a matter of time now. And not very much at that. This is another reason I chose you when I did. I still regret not having the time to let you get used to this gradually, but given the urgency I feel, perhaps it was for the best._ "

The underlying sense of urgency had been felt as she taught him how to channel and use his essence, and the essence of the world around him. Her urgency was catching, and he learned and practiced as much as possible. Only having to sleep a few hours at a time helped quite a bit, as well.

Even so, he vowed not to take the life of another living thing unless he had to for reasons of survival. The very fact that he knew he was roughly twice as strong as he once was underlined the fact that he had to exercise twice as much responsibility now.

However, this didn't mean he took pleasure in using his newfound abilities. Being able to run through the deep forest now and still not make a single sound was still a little difficult, but still quite possible now. He had stalked and snuck up on a deer, and lightly touched her before she knew he was there. He smiled as the deer raced off, alarmed. Taking pleasure in the little things in life was quite gratifying every once in a while.

Melia didn't know all that much about how essence could assist with swordplay, so he was more or less experimenting and learning by accident. Despite this, he had come up with a few tricks on his own already. Nothing that was overwhelmingly useful, but having extra options was always a good thing, he felt.

He finished the kata, and stabbed the sword into the ground in front of him, leaning on it slightly, as he surveyed the world around him, slowly throwing off the sleep of nighttime.

One thing he had learned early on was something rather dangerous - if he spent any essence at all, whether internal or external, the new mark on his forehead would appear, and worse yet, glow. It was a dead giveaway that not only was he an Anathema, he was a Solar, and the current order of this world didn't like Solars at all. He had heard Melia deriding the Dragon-Blooded a few times, but she admitted that though they were the weakest of all Exalts, they were still Exalts, with all the benefits to go with it. What's more is that they were far, far more numerous than all other types combined. She gave him approximate numbers for each, and they were appalling: about two hundred fifty Solar Essences were still around, roughly fifty Abyssal Essences, and around ten thousand Dragon-Blooded.

This quickly brought home the point that if he were in a fight with a Dragon-Blooded alone, he would win, in all likelihood. However, if that same Dragon-Blooded were with his or her usual crew, the odds changed drastically. This fact alone was extra impetus to practice being stealthy even more, and learn to use his bow and sword in case skulking wasn't an option. It seemed to work out well so far.

But he couldn't help but think of longer-term things, now. The world had been run for the past couple centuries by the Immaculate Order, which was run by the Dragon-Blooded. The Solar Essences had only recently been freed to roam the world once again. But what now? The age of the Solars had seen many wondrous things; chariots that flew, weapons with their own minds, living metal armor, and other truly amazing things that had been lost. Would the Solars press to rule the world once again, by plunging it into a world-spanning battleground to wrest power away from the Dragon-Blooded, or would they be more content to watch from the sidelines for a while?

Melia's voice broke softly into his thoughts. " _The natural inclination for the Solars is to rule, by virtue of many things. Some will be content to be righting wrongs across the land, but others will quickly want to have their own kingdoms to rule. There seem to be many signs pointing to war and strife hitting soon, from many different angles._ "

That certainly wasn't encouraging. "Signs? Like what kind of signs, specifically?"

Her voice seemed a little distant; a little strained. " _The contagion loosed upon this world twice now, and..._ "

He interrupted her. "What do you mean, **twice**?"

" _Once, it killed nine out of ten people across the world. This, coupled with attacks by the Fair Folk nearly decimated all of human civilization. This was long ago, right after the Solars were imprisoned. The second was local to where you live, Kale. The disease only spread to within fifty miles of the town of Thorns._ "

"...You mean the thing that killed both my parents stayed contained to only that area? How did it only stay there?"

" _It just stopped exactly fifty miles away. What's worse is that since so many people died, quite a few of them were probably trapped in the Underworld as wraiths, being unable to deal emotionally with their deaths. Those wraiths most likely swelled the ranks of whatever loosed that disease._ "

"You mean to tell me that some...thing created that disease?" He was shocked, and becoming a little angry.

" _Yes, Kale. The Deathlords have carved kingdoms for themselves in the Underworld, with nearly all of it claimed. The first time, they worked together to loose a contagion strong enough to affect the entire surface world; their aim was to kill all life at once. Thankfully, they only almost succeeded. The second time was far more localized, but followed the same basic patterns._ "

Kale recalled the battle strategy his father had taught him, a year before his death. What he had said about pitched battles and wanting to weaken the opposing force before attacking was the best way seemed to echo back to him now. Someone had planned this; this was not a random thing. This was a deliberate first attack, cunningly disguised.

"So, what you're saying to me Melia is that Thorns is going to be attacked soon, and that attack will be fortified by the souls who once lived there."

" _Yes. It is only a matter of time._ "

Kale shivered slightly. "Knowing you, you probably already have a suggestion as to what I should be doing when this happens. Would you mind sharing?"

Her tinkling laugh, so familiar now, echoed in his mind. " _Well, I'm certainly not expecting you to take them on by yourself. However, you will need to know how to strike and disappear very well._ "

He set his jaw determinedly. "Alright, I learned some of the disappear part, and some of the striking part. Teach me more of the not-getting-hit part. If I get caught, I don't want to be defenseless."

" _Alright, then. Let's start with something simple. You see that grove of cherry trees, over there?_ "

He looked, and used essence to refocus his eyes much further away. He saw the grove, if it could be called that, about a mile distant. It looked like it once was what Melia described, but time had made it overgrown and wild. "Aye, I see it."

" _As you know, the cherry trees are shedding their flowers now. Your first task is to run through the grove..._ "

"Alright, that sounds simple enough."

" _...and not let a single cherry blossom leaf touch you._ "

He took a deep breath, and sheathed his sword on his back. He closed his eyes, and let some of his essence diffuse into his body, making his steps lighter, and much faster. He raced toward the grove.


	13. Huntress Chases the Demon

The grey, featureless dusty plains seemed to extend as far as her eyes could see, with few small buildings and the one castle at her back to disturb the silent dead order of the place.

A corpse lay at her feet, recently relieved of the capacity of the spark of life. He had been "volunteered" to practice with his general in single melee combat. Though the small loss of troops this exercise cost her was painful, it was also necessary to weed out the bad troops, ones that could fail during a war and bring their army down with them due to their ineptness or failure.

Her Lieutenant had gained his present rank by surviving her furious onslaught for more than an hour. This was impressive enough to get him promoted, though he stayed the rank he now held based on personal merit.

"Send the next volunteer," she intoned flatly. She didn't say the words that loudly, but they echoed to the rest of her troops, gathered some distance behind her. She didn't see her soldiers handing out straws; nor did she see the unlucky soldier curse as he got the short straw. She didn't see this, but knew this happened every single time.

He approached her and stopped ten feet away. The clanking of his armor enabled Rosethorne to learn his armament by the way it sounded as he walked: plate armor, a shield, and a one-handed weapon. Perfect. The ones without shields never lasted very long.

"Are you ready?" She asked him with a flat voice, with the implication that giving an answer of "Yes" to this question was the only answer that wouldn't assure him death.

She heard him bring his armored feet together and press his weapon against his breastplate in a salute before saying "Yes, General. When you are ready."

He was one of the new ones. He was a career soldier in the Immaculate Order before falling in an ill-executed campaign against the Barbarians to the North. Since he didn't have the awakened Dragon's Blood in his veins, he always worked twice as hard to distinguish himself from the other soldiers to his Dragon-Touched superiors. He lived on as a wraith now, fighting and following orders just as he always had, which was a good thing - he might last more than the paltry ten minutes the fool at her feet had lasted.

"Begin," she said flatly, and spun around, scimitar and khatar at the ready on each gauntleted hand. Ah, he used a standard long sword, standard issue to the foot soldiers of the Immaculate Order. Old habits die hard, she supposed. At first, she did nothing, allowing him to start the fighting. However, he seemed to be doing the same. Perhaps he was unnerved that the tiny scales on her armor each had a tiny face, each one a soul pounded into the steel that comprised her armor and weapons. Each face moaned in a high-pitched, barely audible sound. All of them together created a discordant dirge to those not used to it, as Rosethorne was.

Well, if he seemed to be acting the gentleman not attacking first, then she would have the honor of doing so. She lunged and slashed at his hip with her scimitar in the time of an eye blink, whipping the scimitar back the other direction just as quickly before punching out at his head with her khatar. He managed to parry or dodge all of her attacks so far. Impressive, she thought. She moved faster, attacking in a pattern with seemingly random pauses and stutters amidst a soulsteel typhoon of slashes, kicks, and stabs of her khatar.

He had been forced to go on the defensive nearly immediately, not having the time to make an attack of his own. He had managed to get hit only by a few of her attacks, but he had paid the price heavily when he did. His weapon arm now hung useless at his side, drained of the ghostly essence that kept him in this state of unlife. He was desperately parrying her attacks as fast as he could with his shield and some quick footwork. He had managed to fend her off for a full half-hour when she called a stop. He stood straight and saluted her somewhat stiffly and painfully.

"Adequate. Go see the chiurgeon."

He saluted her gratefully, and hobbled off. Hmm, this one would make a good sparring partner. She would remember him tomorrow, if he was healed enough to give her a challenge again.

A loud, belligerent voice grated on her nerves. "Oh, what's this? King of the Mountain, eh? Can anyone play?"

It was Laughing Doom of the Pure, whom she had the misfortune of sharing a Caste, let alone her Abyssal nature with.

"Actually it's people who need a sparring partner to hone their skill in combat. Are you volunteering?" Her voice seemed to alternate between floating and crawling as it made its way over to him. He made a noise that was somewhere between a snarl and a giggle, and began walking toward her spot, further out on the parade ground.

"It's not everyday I get the chance to kill a general!"

Arrogant fool. This was precisely the reason he was always beaten so easily - he always underestimated his opponents, and always overestimated his own skill. Well, that, and he was a complete blithering idiot.

He didn't even wait to say "Ready" before he attacked, but she expected him to attempt being clever and doing something like this. She turned, and saw that he was using a long-hafted pike this time, rather than the dagger of before. Right before he struck her, she raised her left arm and caught the pike haft between the blades of her khatar and savagely twisted down and to the side, causing he and his pike to go flying over her head. Amazingly, he still held onto the pike. Well, at least he had done one thing right so far.

He regained his feet, chuckling insanely as he tried dancing around her, looking for a window of opportunity. She stood statue-still, letting him do so, waiting for him to grow overconfident and attack. Soon enough, he stabbed at her with his pike. She responded by slashing down on the pike, ducking down and slashing upwards at the pike with her khatar. The two opposing forces caused him to fly unintentionally over her head once again. He had not managed to keep hold of his pike this time.

"Thank you for demonstrating why nobody views a pike as a serious and viable melee weapon." She stood facing him, as he was getting to his feet, snarling at her.

He stomped over to her line of soldiers, and savagely took a sword and shield from one unlucky soldier. He then stomped toward her once again. "Cocky shadowy serving-wench, always thinking you're better than everyone else. I'm sick of it and I'm going to make you change your attitude!"

She said nothing at first, but as he slashed at her with the short sword hoping to catch her by surprise, a deft movement of her khatar entangled the sword between its blades. She pulled on the weapon, bringing she and Laughing Doom nearly face to face.

"I don't think I'm better than everyone else here. I know I'm better than you can ever hope and aspire to be in your wildest childish fantasies of fighting and conquering." Her pale blue eyes burned into his grey eyes through the visor in her helmet. Snarling and giggling at the same time, he tried to yank his sword free of her hold on it, but failed. She looked at him straining to pull it free for a few moments before moving. She lashed out with a speed that would make an angry and striking snake look decrepit and old, neatly carving the flesh off his head from the hairline back, scalping him.

He growled, and managed to finally twist his sword free. He tried to rush at her and bull into her with his shield in front of him, acting as a crude battering ram. She flipped sideways over him, and swung her scimitar dull-edge first at his legs, tripping him heavily. He tried to get up, but her boot was suddenly on the back of his neck, forcing him back down.

"This is your one warning for today, Doom. Angering me will force our Lord to find the Essence within you a more suitable host." With that, she moved her book off the back of his neck, allowing him to rise.

"I won't listen to your stupid threats, Huntress," he growled at her.

"A threat is one or more sentences spoken to attempt to intimidate someone. What I told you was simple cause and effect. I named the actions of yours as a cause that will bring about the effect I mentioned," she said evenly.

"If you kill me, a Deathlord's wrath will be upon your head!" She could smell a little bit of fear on him now.

"Perhaps. I might be punished for slaying an incompetent Deathknight in the employ of our Lord, but I'll also be suitably rewarded if your next incarnation proves to be better than the hollow shell of a warrior that stands before me now."

He was still baring his teeth in anger toward her, but she could tell that he was actually considering what she said. It was amazing the lengths to which one must go to get someone thinking, sometimes.

He swallowed, and stomped toward the side entrance to the castle, flinging the sword and shield in the general direction he had taken them from. He yelled at her over his shoulder, "Fine, I'm done for today. I'm going to visit someone who knows how to properly treat a proper warrior!"

She couldn't help but smile slightly as she called after him in an even cadenced-monotone, "Yes, Kaesta will certainly receive your presence with closed eyes and opened legs."

He didn't appear to have heard her, but she knew he did. Being snobbish and pretending not to hear something was something approaching stupidity, she thought.

After watching their general soundly defeat another Deathknight, she knew she had their full and undivided attention. She noticed with some amusement that a few of them were handing jade pieces to others in the regiment, having lost their bets.

She drew upon the surging essence within her, manifesting her words as nearly tangible things, impacting and impressing even the most properly cynical members of her regiment. She had been practicing doing this, since as a commander of a large group of soldiers, she needed to properly inspire them in more ways than simply being more frightened of their general's wrath than of the opposing force.

"Soon, we will attack the town of Thorns, in the world above. This city will become a haven for the dead, an extension of our Lord's will into the world of the Sun, that his will be exercised both here and there in equal measure. We have the honor of cleansing those who would stand in the way of this inevitable spread of death, and giving to each of them the blessing and gift death offers them. We will annihilate their pitiful excuses for armies, and you here will be the core of a larger force to watch and cause this to happen."

She paused for three seconds, letting tension build slightly. There was an art to public speaking, she'd discovered. Abruptly, she yelled out to them, "For the glory of the Mask!"

They each yelled out the same to her as one, not one of them failing to yell at the top of their lungs in an answering cry. It seemed fitting that the messenger arrived for her with a note, stamped with the personal seal of the Mask.

She took it, and the messenger raced back into the castle. She tore it open, and read the short contents. If it were possible for her to grow pale with her complexion, she would have been at risk of doing so.

The Yozi's were massing a force on her Lord's northern border, and her task was to route them.

She reflected briefly on what she knew of them. When her Lord and other Deathlords had stolen or tempted some of the imprisoned Solar essences from their prison long ago, some were taken by the Yozi as payment for helping to crack the prison.

As much as she and all other Abyssals, including Laughing Doom, she thought with distaste, were avatars of Death and were reviled by the ignorant people of the surface, avatars of Death really weren't so bad. Death was far more enduring than life, and usually much more peaceful, not containing anywhere near the random upsets that life had. On the other hand, the Yozi's were, for lack of a better description, bringers of taint, corruption, and pain for its own sake.

All she or her Lord, through her, sought to accomplish was to bring the peace, stillness, and silence of death to all she could. The Yozi's wanted to corrupt, decay, and torture everyone, living or dead.

She set her jaw grimly. If they would be so cocky as to attack her Lord's lands, then they would be blessed with eternal stillness and silence for their arrogance.

She called out to her troops, using the same aura of confidence, leadership, and fear as she had just done a few minutes ago, its effects still active. "Suit up, and be ready to move out in fifteen minutes. We have an army to crush."

She walked to the stable, flanked by her Lieutenant and his four underlings. She opened the stable doors, and hopped into her warstrider, the bones of its body closing around her, holding her steady. She trotted out, followed shortly by her subordinates, in time to see her entire regiment suited up and ready to leave.

She yelled out at them once more. "We hunt the Yozi, who dare to encroach upon our Lord's lands. We will bring to them the wrath of the Mask for daring to taint this place with their foully corruptive presence, and send them back to the hells that spawned them!"

Most, but not all of her troops cheered wildly. She knew that the ones who hadn't cheered had faced the Yozi before. Even if they didn't have much enthusiasm for doing so again, they'd at least have the experience of fighting them under their belts.

She smiled as she trotted out, followed by the thundering marching footsteps of her regiment. This would be a perfect test of both her abilities and her soldiers' mettle.


	14. Following the Elder Night

He was running at full speed through the very uneven ground of the grove, the essence within him pushing him slightly in the direction he should run to avoid being touched. Adrenaline flooded through his body, as he imagined that the tiny pink leaves were enemy swords, falling on all sides of him. The essence within him rose to match his adrenaline, and he was moving faster, and faster still. Finally, he stopped outside the grove, breathing lightly.

" _Very good, but...there's one on your head._ "

He brushed it off, and smirked. "Okay, so now what?"

He heard a pause, and from a flash of insight at the Essence within him, knew she was deciding something. " _When I was still alive, I had quite a few hideouts, as I'm sure you can guess. I'd lay a wager that none of them have passed the test of time. None of them...except one. It was my own small personal palace, I suppose. It wasn't very big, but it was beautiful there. Jade tiled floors, marble walls...it was cold in there sometimes, but always very pretty. I kept some of my most fun stuff in there. I had it guarded by things that don't live in this world. If they're still there, then so might some of my old stuff._ "

Kale had a feeling he knew where she was going with this, but prodded her to finish anyway. "And...?"

He heard her chuckle. " _If you're willing, I think it would be a good idea to try traveling there and seeing if it's still there. And, I can help train you on the way there, just in case you get bored._ "

He could have sworn he saw a picture of her winking. He nodded, though. It did sound like a good idea, if only to travel. "Alright. Where to?"

She pointed him in the right direction: south, and a little east. As he walked, she was teaching him how to try certain things. " _You know, at some point or another, you're going to have to know how to see what normally cannot be seen._ "

He would have given her a quizzical look, if she still existed outside of him. "Like what, for instance?"

" _Like ghosts._ "

He was taken aback. "Wait, why would I need to see a ghost?"

" _You'd be surprised how much mischief a ghost can cause._ "

"Well, alright. How do I see a ghost, then?"

" _Learning how is actually just a small part of the art I learned. The whole point of the art is to be completely centered, in balance, and in harmony with everything around you. Once you've learned how to do that, you can learn to hone that into being more ghostly yourself. Learning how to think and move as a ghost helps you to see them as well. Interested?_ "

"Well, sure! What kind of art is it?" He paused. "It doesn't have anything to do with...demons, or anything, does it?"

He heard her chuckle again. " _No, nothing at all to do with demons. Nothing except for learning how to shape and use the essence within you more effectively._ "

He shrugged. "Alright, what should I do first?"

" _Wait until we stop for the night, and I'll give you an exercise to do then. I'll give you one to do after you wake up as well. Okay?_ "

"Alright. What about between now and then?"

Kale could almost feel her considering again. The cute and bubbly demeanor she had was simply a mask for a truly devious mind, he had learned. " _Okay. See that clearing in the trees, over there to your left?_ "

He nodded at this. " _Okay. See that smaller rock to the left, and the larger one to the left of that? I want you to flip sideways, jumping from the smaller rock over the larger one._ "

Kale narrowed his eyes. "You want me to what?"

He could just feel her grin. He sighed, and ran at the smaller rock, reasoning that velocity would help him clear the larger one. Well, it couldn't hurt anyway.

He hoped.

Kale jumped at the smaller one, and landed briefly in a crouch on the rock, before launching himself sideways, toward and over the larger one. He forced himself to slowly spin sideways as he jumped. He couldn't help but feel a savage joy as he saw the larger rock about a foot below his face, in mid-flip. He was briefly pleased with himself to no end to know that he was now able to jump that far, when he noticed that the ground was now very very close, and he hadn't rotated enough to land on his feet. He tried to force himself to spin a bit more, just a little more, but it wasn't enough.

He landed with a sickening thud on his chest, the wind knocked out of him on impact. He gasped like a strangled fish for a few moments, when his breathing slowly became regular again.

" _It looks like you need practice. Shall we again?_ "

"It's all this crap I'm carrying. Wait a minute, let me take it off."

" _No, you'll need to know how to do some acrobatics like this when your life is in danger, and you most certainly won't have time to take off all your gear before you do so. Come on, get up and try again._ "

He sighed, and walked about ten paces away from the smaller rock. "Slavedriver." He thought quietly.

He felt a bright grin from her. " _Oh, I'm only your slavedriver, cabbage-head. Come on, go!_ "

Kale ran at the smaller rock, landed in a crouch on it, and launched himself once again over the larger rock. They were both sandstone, he thought. Funny how he didn't notice that before, what with falling on his face, and all.

He was in midair, and he saw the larger rock directly below his face as he was now upside-down in midair. This time, he didn't get distracted, and smoothly followed through with the flip, and landed on his feet, slightly unsteadily. The weight of the sword and his bow and other gear was lighter to him now, but they were just enough to pull him backwards, landing on his back.

He ended up performing the same leap three times more before Melia was satisfied. " _Good! Now, I want you to run toward where we were traveling before, but I want you to roll your weight on your feet like you were walking sneaky-like. I want to see if you can be silent when you run, too._ "

"Melia, it's not possible to run and still be silent. The impact of each step is much stronger because of the speed, and you just can't be as quiet."

He could feel her grin. " _Of course it's possible, you have me with you. Now run!_ "

He shook his head, but ran, rolling his weight like he normally would if he were walking stealthily at a walking pace. At first, he winced every time a dry leaf crackled under his running feet, or a dry twig snapped. As he kept running however, he noticed that it was happening less and less. He kept going, running as fast as he could, and noticed that he could barely hear his own footsteps anymore. He marvelled at this, and kept going for a full half hour before he first started feeling tired, and drained.

" _Okay, first off, good job. However, you've used pretty much all of your own essence to accomplish that. Congratulations on picking it up so quickly by the way, but stop for now._ "

"Why? I can draw from the essence of everything around me, right?"

" _...Well, yes, but to make sure you don't start glowing like a bright lantern, you'd need to burn twice as much just to suppress it. We'll put it off for now._ "

He was feeling a little stubborn. He hadn't had the experience of drawing essence from outside of him, and wanted to. He kept going, and he consciously imagined pulling a little bit of energy from the trees, the grass, and everything else around him to keep going. He was immediately rewarded with feeling the same light, airy, ghostly feeling as he ran as before, but now he noticed that though it was getting dark, everything around him was still light.

" _Good, you've learned how to draw. Now ground the energy and stop what you're doing, or cloak it. And hurry, someone might notice you._ "

He frowned, but imagined someone throwing a cloak over the glow to dampen it, and was rewarded with the glow immediately fading. He gloated. This was fun!

"Anatheeeeemaaaaaa!" He heard a loud, angry, and fearful voice shouting the word from off in the distance.

" _Nice going. You see why I told you to wait?_ "

"Yeah, yeah..." He grumbled, as he looked wildly for a good place to hide.


	15. Pyrrhic Victory

The exhaustion she was feeling was manifesting as a red haze around the corners of her vision. She was walking home, the remnants of her troops in tow.

Her faithful and spirited warstrider was little more than a memory, now. It had been cleaved from beneath her as she led the second charge into the ranks of the Yozi's followers. She walked now, feeling more weary than she ever had in her life.

She just concentrated on step after step. She had fought harder than any twenty of her soldiers. She had to, it was her responsibility: to be an example and inspiration to her troops, to help them fight on against the followers and children of the Yozi. The worst were the ten Infernals that led and directed the rest. She remembered charging and cutting them down as they made their true presences known. But oh, how they had fought back.

How do you truly defeat a being that's been tortured enough to take pain as a source of power, manifesting it as a hybrid of ecstasy and rage? She'd met a few Abyssals who had been able to do the same thing, but certainly not to this degree. It seemed the Yozi took great pleasure in torturing and breaking their few Exalt Essences to the point where great torment was an everyday occurrence for them.

She intellectually understood the reasons for torture to be used. Though she considered it a waste of time, it was also an effective way of extracting information, or correcting undesirable behavior. But to this degree, to experience very little in life except pain...a little of her old self surfaced, the little girl who once had been shocked and horrified by seeing people she knew slain of horrific ways, before she became desensitized enough to it to take it for granted.

But she remembered the last Infernal most clearly. Like the others, he appeared deceptively to be human, until his true self manifested in the form of blood-red flames, the myriad pattern of scars beginning to glow the same sickly reddish color. He laughed, and groaned in pleasure as she cut viciously into him, his counterattacks being just as vicious, and completely unhindered by the pain he was in. Indeed, it made his attacks take the strength of trip hammers, her scimitar and twin-bladed khatar's soulsteel metal screaming in torment as they were forced to the limit of their durability.

Her men were walking just as slowly behind her. About a third of her original force remained. Oh, they had won; they had beaten back and slaughtered the huge horde of laughing, gibbering things, some of them once human. The horde itself was too large to engage on an even playing field, so she had her soldiers surround the horde, and attempt driving the horde back into one of the places in the Underworld where Oblivion took a solid form, devouring anything and everything that came in contact with it. She and her regiment had to force the horde back fifteen miles to reach the River Obliviate.

The things the Infernals led were alive, after a fashion. Strange beings, some resembling the humans they were once, long ago. Others never were even remotely human; some with long tails that tripped and broke the backs of her soldiers, some with a long, sharp bony spike where their hands should be, and even a few tiny hopping things that tried to attach themselves to faces, chewing and clawing.

Her helmet was falling repeatedly into her vision, and she hadn't noticed as she trudged on, step after step, being half lost in thought just to keep going. She took it off, and looked at it as she walked, and was momentarily shocked: it had been shorn from the top left through the bottom right of it, clean through. How had she survived? She took off the other half of the helmet, and carried them both as she walked.

How much further? It didn't matter. She would keep going until she reached her Lord's demesne. She looked over her shoulder, and saw that her men were just as weary as she. None of them were talking, or joking around quietly, as they usually did when they thought she was out of earshot. She looked ahead, and could finally see the castle on the edge of the horizon. She raised a mailed right fist, and called a halt. She heard all of her soldiers stopping gratefully; the battle and the long walk taking its toll on even the wraiths.

She automatically rapped out orders for rotating watch shifts, and her soldiers just as automatically followed them. She was glad she had spent all the time training with them, for they had become a highly efficient fighting force. She had only slain twenty of them over the past few years for gross incompetence or negligence, and she had never been light with them, either.

She sat down cross-legged, and began to meditate. She had learned long ago that meditation cleansed the body and mind even more efficiently than sleep would, and replenished her body and soul's store of essence, as well. It also had the side benefit of being still close to consciousness, so she would be awake and aware in half a moment, should the need arise.

The dreams and half-memories surfaced again. Some insane rants about how all the Solars should be found and slain, for reasons never given. She had felt the hate and rage from the Essence within her as it ranted on to nobody in particular. Like an eye opening and beholding scenery different than the inside of an eyelid, the dreams changed abruptly. This must be a memory of the Essence within her again. She was standing on a ledge, overlooking a huge plain, filled with soldiers, shoulder to shoulder. She, as a he again in this memory, was shouting to make her/himself heard to all of them in a language she didn't know; it seemed to have the desired effect, because the soldiers began cheering wildly once she was finished.

The scene changed once again to just inky, tangible darkness, with the insane ranting again. It was saying something about the Sun, something she couldn't quite make out.

"General! General, we need you!"

Her eyes snapped open, and stood in a ready stance in one fluid motion. She looked toward where the shouting was. Her soldiers had done well to yell out for her instead of trying to find her; in this place, her hair and armor blended so perfectly in with the ever-present shadows as to make her nearly invisible. There, she saw them.

Her eyes narrowed into slits of blue ice. An Infernal, her aura blazing with a sickly burgundy flame, leading ten others. She began to run forward, and nearly faltered at the sharp pain in her leg. Another cut, having cleaved through her thigh-plate. She ignored it, and ran with long strides toward the group rapidly approaching the remnants of her regiment. Tired as she was, her soldiers were far wearier than she, and none could hope to take on the Infernal and win. She, however, could, despite being wounded as she was.

She drew her scimitar as she ran and refastened her khatar with a satisfying clicking noise, as it slid home into the slot on her left gauntlet specifically designed for the purpose. The Infernal stopped at seeing Rosethorne suddenly appear twenty feet away from them, seemingly stepping out from the shadows themselves.

"I remember you, dead one. You slew my family, and our minions. Your screams will echo in this place for years to come." Her anima blazed a little brighter, the flames surrounding her the color of blood. Were it not for the reddish blood-colored flames dancing around her body and her glowing blood-colored eyes, she would have passed for human. The maniacal grin on her face only hinted at the madness that boiled behind her face.

"Yes, they're dead. Come closer, and join them." Rosethorne began focusing her essence once again, her Caste Mark appearing on her forehead like a brand, and blood began to flow from it. Her own anima crept and melted into view, made of tangible shadows, and ghostly bluish fire the color of her eyes. She felt the rotes she had learned to use her essence for beginning to take effect. Time began to slow down.

The Infernal screamed, and began running at her, the lackeys behind her following closely. Rosethorne settled into a ready stance, holding still as they, to her perception, ran slowly toward her. When the Infernal was a scant five feet away, she exploded into motion, slashing with her scimitar, aiming for the Infernal's unprotected neck. The Infernal parried the savage attack, just as Rosethorne thought she would. She spun around, carrying through with the motion of the slash, to be face to face with her followers. With fluid economy of motion, she slew them in rapid succession; timing her attacks to be capable of parrying or dodging the enraged Infernal's attacks as well.

In seconds, the Infernal's followers were dead, leaving her alone with the Infernal, just as she wished. She had learned from fighting this Infernal's brethren, and was wise to their tricks now. The saw-like sword the Infernal carried whistled through the air, aimed at Rosethorne's legs. She ducked into a crouch swiftly, and launched herself into the air, over the sword slash, over the Infernal, and behind her. She spun as she landed, using the momentum to aim a khatar strike directly into the back of the Infernal's skull.

The Infernal ducked, just as Rosethorne knew she would, and her scimitar was already whistling through the air, aimed at her neck. A hollow thud echoed softly across the plains, and the strange blood-like flames died out behind her.

She looked in the direction of her soldiers. "Keep a lookout for more," she said flatly, and strode back to where she was sitting once before.

As she walked, her strides shortened, and the sharp pain in her thigh came throbbingly to life once again, all the rotes she used wearing off. She wiped the blood that her Caste mark had wept into her eyes, and collapsed on the ground. She tried to clear her mind to meditate once more, but the pain made it difficult to concentrate. She unstrapped the thigh plate painfully, and saw that the wound one of the Infernals had inflicted on her hadn't healed at all, and was still oozing blood, and a little black ichor. She touched her head, where she knew the slash that had split her helmet had landed, and saw that the same black ichor came away from the wound on her head as well.

She made a decision. They needed to get back to the castle as soon as possible. She stood, and yelled out at her troops, "Rest time is over. Move out!"

She heard some muted groans from her troops. All of them were wounded to some degree. She looked at them starting to march, and lead the group of them once again.

Once again, it was back to taking the journey one painful stride at a time, but never slowing. She listened closely to the sounds of the footsteps her regiment was making, and they were keeping pace with her.

How long had she been marching now? She didn't know. Her limbs were growing heavier, her armor beginning to feel far too heavy to carry. Her leg was growing numb, from the ichor festering within it, she supposed wearily. She chanced a look up, and saw that the castle was only a few miles away now. She took several deep breaths, and kept going, pulling on her deepest reserves of stamina. Her men were faltering some, but keeping pace. Good, they'd probably seen the castle looming nearer as she had.

She didn't know how much time had passed until they reached the castle parade grounds. Her voice was hoarse and strained as she ordered them all to go to the chiurgeon's theater. The chiurgeons her Lord employed were quite good, mainly because they were her Lord's torturers as well as healers.

She herself forced herself up the long stairs, and through the long, twisting passages to her Lord's audience chamber. She tried not to collapse onto the floor, and landed a little heavily on her knee instead. "Lord, we have returned. We took heavy losses, but all traces of the Yozi force, including the Infernals who led the strike, are now claimed by Oblivion."

His voice echoed with...something she couldn't identify. "Were there any losses?"

"Yes, Lord. I lost two thirds of my regiment against them, and the rest are wounded." She couldn't help but notice the black ichor slowly oozing out of her exposed thigh, and inching slowly toward the floor.

"You did not fight well enough, and evidently you didn't train them well enough."

That statement hung in the air with a subtly malicious pregnant pause.

"What would you have me do, Lord?"

He waited in silence, seemingly considering. He sat in silence, making her wait, as seconds turned into minutes. The ichor began to flow slowly, creeping slowly like an intelligent sickness down the curve of her leg, and toward the floor. She watched it in horrified fascination, as it flowed so slowly, ever so slowly, and began to drip to the floor. She heard a hissing noise as it hit the cold floor, but she couldn't see what was causing the hissing noise, but guessed that it might be eating into the floor.

"Are you soiling yourself, my general?" His voice sounded...amused.

"No, Lord. I received a head wound and a leg wound, filled with a black substance that seems to prevent healing, and some of it has now touched your floor." Her voice was hoarse with the marching and exertion she had put herself through, but still with her signature cadence and monotone.

"Oh, I see." He signaled to his guards. "Then perhaps the chiurgeons should take a look at you, and clean both the failure and the poison from your body."

Her jaw tightened. She willed her anger away. She and her regiment had won, after all, why was he doing this? The guards dragged her to her feet, and began to pull her away. She shoved them strongly away, and began walking with head held high toward the chiurgeon's theater. The least she could do was face her fate like the general she was.


	16. Seek and Discover the Hidden Sun

Without even thinking about it, Kale had found a largish rock close to some trees nearby, and had used it to launch himself into the dense canopy above. The branch he landed on moved some with the light impact of his feet upon it, but not as much as it normally would have. This registered in his mind after the fact, as the branch swayed slightly.

He looked and listened all around him, and soon saw a pack of red jade armored soldiers running toward the grove he was now sitting within. He held his breath, and used his essence to mask his own presence. For it to work, he'd have to not move, but he was fine with that limitation; if he had to move, that would mean he'd been discovered, which would make the charm a moot point anyway.

They stopped, and looked all around them. He held his breath as they looked up into the trees closely. He looked out where the branch was most visible, and was a little heartened by how it wasn't moving anymore. Good, one less clue to give his presence away.

"I _know_ I saw an anima flare somewhere around here." The soldier that spoke was peering intently in every direction. His eyes met Kale's, whose heart stopped for a moment, but let out a silent breath of relief upon seeing the soldier's eyes move on to another area.

"What color was it?" Another soldier, looking around. He didn't seem to have the practiced eye of the first who spoke; he was more looking around at random, as if attempting to give the appearance of searching thoroughly.

"What bloody matters about the damnable colors of its anima? It wasn't the anima of an Immaculate, and that's reason enough!" The first soldier was alternating between looking around, and glaring at the second soldier.

Another soldier spoke up. Her voice was steady and calm, and had the ring in her voice of one who expected and was used to being obeyed. "Did any of you get a good look at the Anathema's mark?"

Kale looked more closely at her. She was unique among her companions in that she wore no armor. However, she did wear a light bluish jade helmet, and carried a matching shield on her right wrist. A long, double-pronged spear moved lightly in her left. A Speardancer; his father had told him a few tales of their savagely beautiful style of fighting, and how they all looked down upon the use of armor, beyond a shield and sometimes a helmet. No normal human had a prayer of being capable of their style; it was reserved for those with the Blood of the Dragons in their veins.

The first soldier spoke up, while still searching. "No, Commander. All I saw was the brief flare of a non-Immaculate anima, which disappeared right after I noticed it."

Their Commander looked around once more, before rapping out orders. "Alright. If here is the last place we saw it, then we make camp here."

The small group of soldiers, Kale counted about 15 of them, began setting up camp with practiced military efficiency. Kale waited until he was sure none of them were looking directly at him or for him, and released the charm that had kept him imperceptible. He drew his essence around him like a dark cloak, suffocating his presence from other's notice.

He quietly, slowly, and carefully climbed down. He closed his eyes and took a few deep silent breaths to help him concentrate. From what he could tell after only being used to having essence within him for less than a year, he could practice the trick Melia had taught him, to keep his running footsteps silent for about a mile, which should be out of earshot for the soldiers.

He didn't try it right away, not completely trusting the rote's capabilities; he had only used it once, after all. He crept from tree to tree cautiously, until he could barely see the campfires and tents that the soldiers had setup camp with. Once he was on the edge of the grove, he chanced it, essence channeling into his legs and lungs, helping him race quickly and silently away from them.

He kept running for about a mile, until he began feeling very weary. He stopped the charm, and then cautiously looked around, to ensure that he wasn't being followed.

" _That was a close one. You did an excellent job at dodging the Hunt._ "

Great.

"Okay, what is the 'hunt?'" He asked cautiously. He had a guess that it had to do with the Dragon-Blood led group of soldiers that appeared to be quite intent on making sure he stopped breathing. Painfully, if possible.

" _The Wyld Hunt was originally created and instituted during the First Age as a strike team, whose purpose was to chase down the Fair Folk or undead who overstepped their welcome. Now, they just hunt any Exalts that aren't Dragon-Blooded, and sometimes go after those that they're supposed to go after._ "

Kale shook his head. He was still having a little difficulty as thinking of himself as being anything more than what he had always known, with some added benefits at times. To think of himself as a "Solar," that was a stretch. To associate that by necessity with the vile-sounding name "Anathema," well, that was still a tough pill to swallow.

" _Come on, Kale,_ " she prodded, but not unkindly. " _We still have quite a bit of ground to cover._ "

He nodded. He was used to running all night and into the day, now. Feeling this surging energy running through his body apparently counted this as one of the side benefits.

He took off at an easy jog, but one that was deceptively swift. "How much further do we have to go?"

" _About thirty miles from here._ "

About six more hours of jogging, then. He kept his senses perked up, studying his surroundings ceaselessly as he jogged quietly across the open plains. After a few hours, he started seeing the grassy, lush plains giving way slowly to the desert lands. As he ran, he thought more about what had happened over the past few months that had changed his life so drastically. He hit upon the disquieting notion that Melia had been urging him to get to this temple rather emphatically, in her own understated way. But why?

He repeated his question in the more open parts of his mind, where Melia had promised to limit her attentions.

He heard only silence, but knew that she was struggling for words. When she answered, she sounded weary. " _I've nearly finished bonding my Essence to yours, Kale. Once I'm done, it'll be time for me to take the rest I was denied for over a thousand years. It's an effort to stay aware, to make sure that you know what you must know to survive, and get what you need to receive for the same reasons._ "

This made him think, as he kept up his effortless lope. "So, once I find your temple and loot it, you're going to leave me?"

He heard a tired chuckle. " _No, I'll stay around a little while longer, just to make sure you're okay. But at that point, it'll become more and more of an effort to speak with you, so I'll just save it for a final goodbye, right before I take my rest._ "

He sighed, deeply. He was trying to not get depressed over the fact that every living being he cared about had died, and if what Melia had told him about his new lifespan, this pattern wouldn't be coming to an end anytime soon.

He forced his mind to other things, such as rolling his weight on his feet as Melia had taught him to be truly silent, even when running. It seemed that the essence within him was an uncontrolled force, that rose to assist him in pretty much anything he did; but relying upon it would be a mistake. He had to learn the mundane and boring ways of doing things before he could use his essence well. It made sense to him, so he wasn't complaining. After all, one shouldn't expect a hammer to knock nails into wood by itself.

Melia's softer, slightly older, and much more weary voice interrupted his thoughts. " _We're here, Kale. Look around, and see if you can find the entrance._ "

It took him the better part of an hour just to see where he was supposed to be looking. But he found a worn pillar here, a sharply domed structure that certainly wasn't naturally made, and other clues.

With Melia's memories of how things were supposed to be, and him scouting around the sandy place, he finally found the entrance, half-covered by rubble. He pulled all the rubble away, and was at first unimpressed.

He carefully blew away the dust clinging to the old jade and marble, and a cunning and extremely intricate design took shape. There were many symbols and ornamentations, but no visible handles or anything.

" _Look closely, Kale. See the five circles in the center?_ "

He looked for a moment, and saw the design, at the very center of the door. Each circle had a particular symbol within it. He nodded. "Yeah, I see it."

" _Okay, now for the combination. Don't let this get around, otherwise my reputation as the sneakiest of the sneaky ones will go straight into the chamberpot._ " He felt her grin, and rolled his eyes. " _Touch them in any order, but leave the one on the upper right for last._ "

Dubiously, he did so. As he touched the last circle, the door seemed to fold in on itself, glow with a soft golden light, and retract upwards. The way it moved was fluid, like water, not at all like the stone it had been carved from. He was fascinated for a moment, and then looked at the inky darkness within.

He took a deep breath, and cautiously went inside.


	17. Questions Without, Answers Within

"i stILl CAnnoT wHIspeR TO hER, tO HEr. dO YoU kNOW WHy THiS iS, thIs IS?"

The Mask of Winters had once again been called to an audience with his patron. It amused him, in a bleak sort of way, that his patron was curious and angry about the same thing he himself was.

"You mentioned that the Essence within her still hasn't bonded to her completely. Is this still the case?"

A low roar filled the chamber, making the walls of the mausoleum deep within the Labyrinth shudder and crack, with reddish-black ichor bleeding slowly from the cracks. "I CAnnoT SEe inTo hER mINd, hEr esSenCE blOCks my VIeW, mY vIEW!"

Ah, so that was it - this also explained why the mirror she had procured for him never showed anything other than the slowly swirling beautiful energy of Death within her. But why hadn't she bonded to her Abyssal Essence yet? This process was nearly always instantaneous, at least, from what he'd seen of the other Abyssals in his employ. He hadn't ever heard of a Deathknight not bonding to the Essence within them for more than a day.

When he saw this newly Oblivion-touched Essence and acquired it greedily, he hadn't felt or saw anything amiss at the time, though he'd never tried to Exalt anyone with it before his General.

"Do you know why she hasn't bonded to the Essence within her?"

His patron either chose not to answer, or hadn't heard him. "THouGh ShE liES iN tOrmENT, hEr mINd stAYS CLeaR, STayS cLEar!"

He smiled behind his mask. Evidently he had taught her some things all too well; the chiurgeons had told him that each they came in to the operating theater, the wounds they inflicted on her the previous time had healed completely, with no scarring. She never made a sound or changed facial expressions as they attempted to purify her of failure and toxin with pain. This last came as a mild surprise to even him, as he knew his chiurgeons, including his newest one, Greta, were exceptionally competent at their jobs.

They'd told him the poisonous ichor found in her head wound and her right thigh wound was magically enhanced; not only did it devour flesh and turn the flesh devoured into more of itself, it was nearly as painful as the worst tortures his chiurgeons were capable of. They had saved some of it for further study, of course.

One Cloaked in Dust spoke again, a bit more calmly now. "thE eSsenCe wiThiN heR refUseS to taKe itS resT, to tAke itS reSt."

"How intriguing. But why, noble embodiment of Oblivion?"

"thiS wIll proVe tO be bOon or banE vEry SooN, Very sOon."

The Mask of Winters hid his impatience with well-practiced ease.

"leave mE, leaVe Me to drEam."

He bowed deeply, and left his patron's chambers. He'd never outright ignore or ridicule his Malfean patron, that would be foolish. He'd heard how another Deathlord, The First and Forsaken Lion had done so, and how very quickly his attitude changed once his patron had transported him to its chambers, and kept him there for a year and a day. The Mask of Winters had also heard that ever since then, the First and Forsaken Lion could no longer remove his armor, as it had been riveted to his body.

No, he'd simply placate his frequently exasperating patron as he always did, and then go right back to what he was doing before, as usual. This game had been played for hundreds of years now. He might be one of the youngest Deathlords here in the Underworld, but he was far from being the most foolish.

When he entered his audience chamber, his senses alerted him to two people attempting to have a conversation in low voices, to avoid being overheard. The fact that it was Kaesta and Laughing Doom of the Pure made him smile. Their talks were always interesting.

He first heard Laughing Doom's voice. "Yeah, she's with the ki-ur...ki-ur..."

"Chiurgeons, dear."

"Right. Yeah, well our Lord slapped her down to there. I haven't heard what he did with the rest of her regiment, but it's ripe for the taking now. Alls I got to do is just kill her while she's still weak, right?"

The Mask of Winter's scrying cauldron was quickly put to use, allowing him to see Kaesta mock-lovingly stroke the fool's face before she spoke. "Exactly, dear. She's no good to anyone here. She doesn't play by the rules. She doesn't even try to get along with the proper people here, and she makes it a point to pick on you!"

His face quickly looked indignant. "Yeah, that's right! She always picks on me, and I don't know why!"

She smiled. "Exactly. Now you'll get to have your revenge, Doomie! Won't that be wonderful? You get to ride out to glory on the battlefield for the glories of our Lord, and I'll be here to welcome you when you get home. Doesn't that sound just wonderful?"

The Mask of Winters allowed himself a low chuckle. He moved over to the Essence traps in his personal quarters, and primed one. He had a feeling that it would be trapping an Abyssal Essence here very soon.

He sighed after he did so. Finding a good host for an Essence was always a bit difficult. It was made slightly less difficult because either way, it would be a Dusk Caste Essence that would be trapped here. All you really needed to do with them was find a strong host, preferably one that liked killing - though that was optional, really.

Rosethorne was tied into a fiendish contraption, made of soulsteel and bone. Her wounds had been cleaned of the ichor a few weeks ago, and now the chiurgeons were just torturing her, waiting to hear her confession of how she'd made a mistake. But she'd made none, as far as she was concerned. She and her regiment had slain every last member of the Yozi force. Yes, she'd lost a good two thirds of her regiment in the process, but she'd won.

She'd endured the chiurgeons' best efforts at giving her unimaginable agony. She'd felt distant from her own body ever since they'd brought her in here, her mind elsewhere, her body's echoing feelings of torment feeling distant.

Now, they'd left, and she was alone with her thoughts once again. She could feel her essence channeling through her wounds, greatly accelerating the healing of her tired body. She was alone in the comforting darkness now, alone with her thoughts.

Why had her Lord done this to her? She'd fought her best, fighting beyond exhaustion, beyond what she thought she could do. How had she been rewarded? She'd been greeted as a failure for losing so many soldiers against a force five times as large as the one she commanded, and one with ten times as many Exalts. Even when they managed to infect her with that vile ichor, she'd ignored it and fought on, as she must. If she had faltered but once, so would her men, and so would any chance she had of walking away after such a battle.

To be trapped here, restrained, confined, she felt her anger growing with each passing day. Was this what her Lord wished? To have his General nursing her rage, that he could turn her loose on his enemies? It certainly made sense; she was going to have to spill the blood of many people before she would feel her anger grow any less.

A voice cut into her thoughts. She realized with annoyance that it was the same voice within her that ranted so often, and one she'd looking forward to hearing silenced with expectation that mere words would not describe.

" _I'm hiding your feelings from them, you know._ "

Her eyes narrowed. "Who is this 'them' of which you speak, burning ulcer upon my soul?"

She heard his voice giggle, a little insanely. " _That fool of a Deathlord and the Malfean he bows to, of course! I've felt them try to see within your mind and soul, and I blocked them each time!_ "

She rolled her eyes and took a deep breath. "Why are you doing this?"

" _Because if they knew about the anger that burned within you, you would be slain, and I would be passed onto another vessel._ "

Her jaw tightened as much as it could, with the soulsteel collar around her neck. He was right, and that was what made her more angry. She took another deep breath to keep her anger at bay, at least for the present. "Why haven't you grown silent yet? And why are you helping me like this? Why now, of all times?"

He giggled again, evidently proud of himself. " _Because I've grown to like you, Rosethorne. You catch on to your abilities fast, and that's why I still haven't gone to sleep yet._ "

She closed her eyes and shook her head as much as she could, within her restraints. "You left something out. Explain why you still haunt me with your inane ramblings."

His voice sounded surprisingly sane. " _You still need me awake, for now. I remember things you do not, for now. If I were to finally rest, you might get glimpses of my memories, but it would not be enough, not for what you will need to do soon._ "

Her eyes narrowed, and her jaw tightened again. She prevented herself from grinding her teeth in anger with great effort. "And just when will I find out about my glorious destiny, hmm?"

His voice sounded much more distant. " _Soon._ "

She growled out the words of her question, "When is 'soon,' you insane twit?," but got no answer. She clenched her fists in frustration, ignoring the needles tearing her skin as she did so.

She lay awake, lost in her thoughts for several hours. Her anger had receded somewhat for now, but not entirely. She was still staring at the ceiling of the cavernous theater when the chiurgeons came in, accompanied by guards. She forced her expression to not change with great effort as she saw that the foremost of the guards was Laughing Doom. He eyed her nude form lewdly and giggled, which she ignored. For now.

Greta seemed to aimlessly drift into the room, and drift just as aimlessly to Rosethorne's side. "Our Lord has seen fit to release you. You will be brought to his glorious presence."

The guards and chiurgeons released her from the restraints and the contraption itself. Once the contraption's lever to release her was pulled, she was dumped unceremoniously to the floor, in a heap. One guard came to her left side, and Laughing Doom sauntered to her right side, as they roughly pulled her to her feet. She noticed out of the corner of her eye that Laughing Doom had pulled his dagger from his belt.

She twisted to the side as he tried to subtly drive the dagger deep into her back, and shoved him backwards. She rose unsteadily to her feet, her eyes locked on his. She was feeling weak and slow from the month she had spent strapped motionless in that vile contraption, but she was still more than ready for him.

He roared with anger at his flimsy ruse was seen through, and grabbed a sword from one of the guards. She quickly did the same, as they began circling each other. The guards and chiurgeons wisely got out of their way.

He snarled at her. "Your time is over. Its now time for me to lead our Lord's armies into glorious battle!"

Her expression didn't change. "Since you're dreaming, I'll help you sleep eternally, so you can have that dream as long as you wish."

He lunged at her, which she dodged clumsily, narrowly avoiding being cut by the sharp blade. He slashed at her repeatedly, and she managed to parry or dodge all his strikes. However, the more she moved on her feet, the more she felt her strength returning. She smiled to herself as she began to feel the strength returning to her body slowly. He lunged at her again, and she spun around the strike and through his guard to elbow him in the face. He stumbled back, blood streaming from his nose. She pressed the attack, slashing at his neck, which he managed to parry just in time. She stepped back, and studied him. He'd learned a little about fighting, it seemed.

He shook his head, and bared his teeth in an angry grimace at her. She looked back at him cooly, with no expression on her face. He rushed at her once more, which she ducked, With the same motion, she swung her sword savagely at his leg, cleaving right through. He collapsed to the floor, screaming and laughing at the same time. Perhaps he knew that this was the end. No matter. She stabbed him through the chest, pulled out the sword, and beheaded him, his head falling to the floor with a meaty, hollow thud. The expression of surprise and agony was frozen on his features.

She contemptuously wiped the blade thoroughly on his shirt, and handed it back to the guard with a nod. The surprised guard could do little other than accept the blade, and nod in return. Holding her body straight and her head held high, she walked toward her Lord's audience chamber. She heard the guards following her as she walked, which was fine.

The Mask of Winters was awaiting the return of his General to his throne room. What he expected to see was for her limp form to be carried in and dumped before his throne. However, he wasn't entirely surprised when she walked in nude, a little more stiffly than she had in the past, and dropped to one knee on the same tile of the floor where she normally did. Nervous guards followed her in.

He broke the silence first. "I see that you are still capable of moving on your own after your cleansing session. The next time you fail me, I will ensure that you will be held longer."

She said nothing for a few moments, and continued looking at the ground. She noticed now that the tile she kneeled upon had been replaced. Evidently the ichor was indeed corrosive.

"Your servant awaits her orders, Lord."

He said nothing, and just studied her for a few minutes. It annoyed him slightly that she had no scars from her recent experience.

"Where is Laughing Doom of the Pure?" He already knew the answer, as he saw that his Essence trap was now holding a pure Abyssal Essence, and she had already answered his question by virtue of the fact that she was the one who walked in, and not Laughing Doom.

"I slew him. He attempted to take my life as I was being picked up from the restraints, which I would not allow."

Again, he said nothing for a few minutes. The dead have all the time in the world, after all.

"Go to your quarters, and return here armed. Be swift."

She stood, and bowed to him. She realized that she had no sharp object on her to salute him with, and so used her fingernails instead, before marching out. As she walked out with long strides, The Mask of Winters realized idly just how long her hair was on her. It didn't look overlong on her though, as her height offset the length of her hair nicely.

She returned in ten minutes, fully armored, carrying her helm in the crook of her left arm. He rose, and gestured for her to follow him, which she did. They walked through more twisting passageways, before ending up on a balcony overlooking the parade ground.

She hid her surprise as she beheld the sight below her.


	18. Third Eye Reflects Back

Kale's eyes adjusted preternaturally fast in the gloom, as he slowly and carefully stepped inside. He nearly jumped at the sound of the door unfolding to close behind him, but he was thankful for it.

He stepped carefully, looking at the small palace in the dark. The first room he entered was a large antechamber, probably used for greeting guests.

" _What few there were that knew of this place, yes._ " Melia's voice made him smile; she was watching him, and letting him explore on his own.

He found a doorway on the other side of the large room, and cautiously walked toward it. Walking alone, in a large marble room is a great place to gauge just how quietly one can walk. He was pleased that he heard more noise from his own breathing than of his boots treading softly across the marble and jade floor.

He walked through the doorway cautiously, which opened into a smaller room with a much higher ceiling. He quickly saw the reason for this, as there was...a huge suit of armor on the other side of the room. He looked in shock and awe at the spectacle. The armor had to be made for a tall giant or something, since it was about twenty-five feet tall. A large, wide sword was resting between its feet. As Kale circled around it, he saw that the blade was large enough to look almost ridiculous, even for a suit of armor as large as that. And yet, the handle only seemed large enough for one of the armor's huge mailed hands.

" _That's my guardian, Kale. This was created for me by a truly talented member of the Twilight Caste, who worked unceasingly for a year and four months at his forge, crafting it._ "

He admitted to being impressed. "So, it just sits here in this chamber?"

He heard a sleepy chuckling. " _Yes, it now just sits here and protects this place from everyone who isn't me._ "

Kale nodded. "Oh, okay." He paused. "Wait, what?"

Right after he spoke those words, the place on the armor where eyes would be lighted up in a ghostly bluish-green color. The gigantic armor moved its right arm, grabbed the handle of the equally gigantic sword, and hefted it aloft. Its gaze seemed fixed upon him, and with booming strides, it walked purposefully toward him, the absurdly large sword held at the ready.

Oh, this was so far beyond not good. "Hey, Melia? A little help, maybe?"

He leapt out of the way as the sword crashed with a sickening, echoing boom where he stood barely a second before. He ran and ducked around so that he was behind it, hoping to confuse it by staying facing its back.

The ruse quickly failed, as it whirled around, to fix him with its bluish-green glare. It lifted the sword once again, and brought it down once again with a blow that sunk the blade two feet into the ground, making the entire chamber shudder. Kale had dodged out of the way with the speed borne of pure desperation and fear.

"Melia!" He barely had time to shout out her name as he was forced to dive to the side once again, rolling into a crouch.

" _To make it stop, show it your birthright._ "

He shook his head. This woman was outright insane; there was no escaping it. He dove nimbly out of the way once more, and unsheathed his father's greatsword, and held it aloft. "Halt!" he yelled out at it with what he hoped was an authoritative tone.

He was very quickly thankful at all the jumping exercises Melia had him practice, as a quick backflip into the air was necessary to escape the diagonal downward slash that nearly got him.

He faced it again, holding the blade with the point toward the stomping suit of armor. "I command you, hold!"

His command fell on deaf ears again, as he quickly had to dodge another devastating slash. "This isn't working!" Then he realized what Melia meant: he had a new birthright now, one of the Sun. He drew some of the ambient essence from the old and dusty place around him. His instinct now was to use it instantly as an invisible cloak that made detecting his presence in any fashion much more difficult, but in this case, he simply let the energy flow freely from him. His Caste Mark glowed as a shining golden circle on his forehead, while his anima flared into view with surging colors of gold, red, and blue.

He faced it once more. "In the name of the Unconquered Sun, I command you to hold!"

To his utter surprise and relief, it did so, and faced toward him. What surprised him further was that this huge, living suit of armor spoke in an echoing, booming baritone. "GREETINGS, CHILD OF THE SUN. I SHALL NOT HARM YOU FURTHER, BUT I CANNOT ALLOW ENTRANCE TO ANYONE BUT THE ONE I SERVE."

Kale shook his head quickly to chase away his utter surprise. "The one you serve is dead now, though. She passed her power onto me."

It merely looked impassive at him. "I REQUIRE PROOF."

He thought to Melia urgently. "Melia, a little help here would be nice!"

" _The proof it wants was destroyed along with me, centuries ago._ "

Kale rolled his eyes. Oh, this was going to be lovely. "So, do I just run through the doorway and hope it doesn't cut me in half?"

He heard her sleepy chuckling once more. " _No, I have a duplicate, but it's stashed in the chamber it guards." She paused. "It wants to see my signet ring._ "

He shook his head. This wasn't any easier. He addressed the metal behemoth again. "The proof you require, in the form of Melia's signet ring, is in the chamber you guard."

It seemed to stand a little straighter, and with the creaking of metal and the loud booms of its footsteps, it moved next to the doorway. "YOU MAY PASS. SHOW ME THE RING WITHIN SIXTY SECONDS OF ENTERING, AND I SHALL RECOGNIZE YOU AS MY NEW CHARGE."

He nodded, and walked swiftly into the room. A memory prickled in the back of his mind, and he seemed to remember placing it here long ago. He walked over to the back wall as if in a dream, and lightly touched the spot on the huge map on the back wall that corresponded exactly to the location of this small palace. A small drawer opened in the wall face, revealing the ring and a scroll.

He shook his head as if to clear it, grabbed both ring and scroll, and walked back out to the huge armored guardian. He held the ring aloft toward it. The guardian's eyes came to life once more, and gazed intently at the ring. It seemed to relax slightly, and stood straight again. "SPEAK YOUR NAME, CHILD OF THE SUN."

He looked up into its armored face. "My name is Kale, of the Night Caste."

It nodded to him with the creaking of metal. "GREETINGS, KALE. AS YOU ARE MELIA'S CHOSEN SUCCESSOR, I NOW NAME YOU AS MY CHARGE."

With that, its eyes dimmed, and went out, looking once again like an oversize armored statue. Kale exhaled the breath he hadn't realized he was holding, and walked back into the chamber beyond. No memories came at him this time, but he suspected that since he remembered one of Melia's memories, she was nearly bonded to him. He paused in his purposeful walk as he realized the implication of this. She was nearly gone, and soon, he would be alone once more. He took a deep, slightly shuddering breath.

He walked once more into the room, looking at all the things Melia had cherished, long ago. Predictably, he found a beautifully ornate bow; it was her favorite weapon, after all. He found two golden, strange daggers. Another of her memories hit him briefly, helping him to remember them as sai, used as short swords and to trap an enemy's weapon, and always used in pairs.

He found a bracer made of the same strange, gold-like material, trimmed with blue jade. It had the design of a phoenix within a golden circle; evidently Melia's calling card, as the same design was on her signet ring. It signaled rebirth, and the ring signified the Night Caste. How utterly fitting, he thought.

He placed the bracer on his left forearm, and it seemed to grow to accommodate his larger arm. It seemed...it seemed to be waiting for something. He shrugged. "Bracer, I ask you to protect me as best you can, and I give you the gift of essence." He closed his eyes and channeled a little of his own essence through his arm and into the bracer, which glowed, and grew further to seamlessly encase his forearm. Strangely enough, his forearm didn't feel hot, which meant his arm could still breathe. Amazing.

He walked around the room further, and saw some trinkets, and a few gems. One of them had glowed out of the corner of his eye when he had channeled essence into the bracer. He picked it up, and was suddenly drawn strongly into a memory.

His entire body grew stiff as he fell back onto the floor, the sword digging into his back quickly becoming a fading memory as the memory took over. A buzzing sound grew out of nowhere, and grew steadily louder as his vision faded. Breathing was so difficult now, as it felt as if a giant hand was slowly squeezing his chest tighter and tighter. Darkness took him.

He seemed to be much lower to the ground, before he remembered: these were Melia's memories, and she was quite a bit shorter than he. She was running to this palace in the dead of night, her feet carrying her over the ground with impossible swiftness. He heard the nighttime sounds of the animals of the desert, but didn't even hear the crunch of sand under her racing feet. She looked behind her, and saw the angry reddish blotch in the sky some distance behind her that signalled her hometown was burning to the ground, the fire lit by the Dragon-Blooded in their rebellion.

She cursed both the Dragon-Blooded for their bloody rebellion, and equally cursed her brethren for growing so complacent and distant from their own duties. She saw a small scouting patrol of the Dragon-Blooded, looking resplendent and righteous in their jade armor. They had seen her, to her surprise, and were running swiftly to cut across her path. This might be the end of the age she knew, but she wasn't going to go quietly.

She ran directly at them with an appalling speed, and using the virtue of her smaller size, darted between them. She swiftly drove one of her daggers into the back of one's neck, and used the other to swiftly dispatch the one next to her. She darted back out of immediate reach of a weapon, and eyed them. Five left.

She assumed a strange stance, and the shadows around her seemed to caress her, flowing across her until she was nothing but a shadow made manifest, blending perfectly into the night-time shadows. She raced toward the angry and slightly scared Dragon-Blooded again. She felt compelled togive them some credit: they hadn't yelled or done anything dumb at seeing their compatriots struck down in her fury.

She ducked and flowed around them, swiftly killing them, one by one. The shadows flowed away from her body, revealing herself once more. She also felt a sharp pain in her side. One of the bastards had managed to cut her. No matter. She had no time now. She extended her senses around her, looking for more that might stumble across her or her secret place in the sands.

Finding and sensing none, she resumed her swift stride, bringing her quickly to her temple. The door opened at her quick combination, and she quickly darted inside. She ran to a panel right beside the door, on the interior of her palace. She quickly pressed a few symbols on the engraving, and heard a shuddering outside. She smiled with satisfaction, and darted to the interior room.

Her guardian came to life and stepped aside for her with a nod, which she returned. She made sure that her other signet ring was in hand, and moved to the secret drawer in the map of the back wall. She put it in, but hesitated as her finger was over the release button that would hide the drawer seamlessly into the wall once again. She decided to quickly write out her story for the next person who carried her memories. She only hoped that her successor would have a better fate than the one that awaited her.

Writing with impossible speed, she smiled smugly as she placed the scroll with the signet ring. She blessed all those times she had hung out with the Eclipse Caste types, who ended up teaching her a few things. She only hoped a fate less terrible awaited them as what surely awaited her, and the rest of her Caste.

She placed her bracer in the chamber, and hid the Hearthstone that had once sat within it amongst a basket of rubies. To eyes not trained to see the flows of essence, it would look simply like another ruby.

She took off most of her possessions, as she wouldn't need them soon. She was going straight for the Immaculate Palace, the heart of the new Dragon-Blooded regime, and she would repay in blood a thousandfold the fate that befell her brethren in treachery. She now only wore simple traveler's clothes, and carried no visible weapons, just as she wished. She could form weapons out of her own essence if necessary, which meant she could travel very light indeed.

She ran out in front of her guardian, that her close friend Mechle had created for her as a wedding present. It seemed so long ago that she became a married woman, playfully making the man who sought (and had already won) her heart woo her over the course of decades with gentle walks in the woods, talks that lasted days on end, and little gifts that weren't meaningless knick-knacks, but things that showed how he felt for her.

She remembered waiting with a hidden smile for him to ask her to be his wife, and how she had playfully made him sweat for a few seconds before leaping into his arms with kisses and her answer of yes, forever.

Now her beloved was dead, slain by the Dragon-Blooded he once led. Oh, he had sold his life dearly, having been attacked when they thought he was unarmored and defenseless. But he knew the same tricks as she, at how to form weapons and his armor out of his own essence, and he made them pay a thousandfold his death.

Now, she was alone once more. Her old skills had returned to her swiftly after two centuries of disuse, and she would use them to visit her grief and wrath upon the Dragon-Blooded who had taken him away from her.

She shook her head to clear it. She needed a clear head now. "Guardian, I go now to my death. Treat the next one who enters as an intruder. If they're my successor, they'll know that my signet ring is in the chamber you guard."

It nodded to her, its gold and blue jade construction reflecting any ambient light beautifully upon the walls. "IT SHALL BE DONE."

She nodded to the hulking armored guardian, and walked to the panel on the interior by the door once more, pressing a few symbols. She heard a shuddering outside, which she smiled grimly at. She opened the door, and keyed the same symbols in reverse before darting swiftly out the door. She ran for a short distance before turning around, seeing her palace sink into the sands smoothly and without trace. She nodded to herself, and took off running directly at the heart of the new Dragon-Blooded regime.

Perhaps her brethren had grown fat and lazy on their power. Perhaps the things the Dragon-Blooded said about her brethren trafficking with demons and worse were true. Perhaps they were even right for this bloody coup. Even if this was the case, she wasn't an outsider looking on the situation, she had her beloved taken from her, all the people she called friend bleeding with the wide-eyed expression of surprise at their deaths in the streets from the place she had run from, narrowly escaping with her life.

Fading glimpses of her assassinating high-ranking members of the Immaculate Order over the course of two hundred years went swiftly by, culminating with her eventual capture and death. The last memory he had was of her, as a golden ghost, standing above her body and preparing to flit away like a midnight breeze, but was being pulled inescapably under the ground, into the inky blackness, and being drawn into a great jade prison. She screamed as she struggled in vain against the inexorable force, the great jade bars swiftly moving closer.

 

Kale sat up with a gasp. He wiped his sweaty hands on his pants absentmindedly. With trembling hands, reached for the scroll that he had found in that secret niche within the map.

He read to himself, her fading memory of that language helping him read through this hastily written scroll. She was born almost eight hundred years before that fateful night he had just relived, and she was Chosen at the age of twenty, the child of a poor trader and a seamstress. Her parents had no high hopes for their daughter, who dared to climb everywhere she wasn't supposed to, and explore places she shouldn't go. When the Sun chose her with a soft blaze of light, her life abruptly changed. Another Night Caste had found her in dreams, and passed along her power to Melia, explaining the necessary things before taking her rest.

She helped her parents out until their deaths, mostly quelling the mad thrumming in her veins that demanded to be taken advantage of. She grieved their deaths, and looked after her extended family from a distance, but gave in fully to her new life as the Chosen of the Sun, reveling in the myriad glories and wonders of the age.

Melia had dated the letter roughly a thousand years before now. His hands shook slightly as he read it over again, before leaning back against the wall, eyes unfocused as he stared at the far wall, trying to comprehend and digest all of this. She had been trapped, formless, bodiless, and hopeless in that prison for a thousand years, with only the other forlorn and bodiless Essences around her, some slowly souring with the energies of the Abyss flowing through the prison.

She had lived through all of this, and had passed the Exalt Essence onto him, as her successor. It seemed in the document that Melia had assumed her successor would be female, which he smirked at.

He looked downcast now. She had promised that she'd say goodbye before she left. Even if every single person he'd ever loved or cared about died, he'd feel a little better if at least one of them said goodbye to him first. It made dealing with their loss a bit easier.

Her voice sounded barely half-awake. " _I'm...not gone yet Kale, but will be soon. Don't worry, I'll say goodbye._ "

He gave a half-smile. He stood once again, took off his gear, and stared at it, on the ground. Something told him that all other Exalts in the world carried something stronger than the simple (though well-crafted) steel of his father's big blade. He'd leave it here, as a reminder for himself, and as a tribute to his father.

He had spied a long, thin sword lying sheathed on a stand in the corner. He moved over to it and unsheathed it, marveling at its craftsmanship. This sword looked as if it had been crafted by the same master craftsman who created Melia's guardian, as it didn't show their age at all. It seemed to beg to be unsheathed, which he did. To his surprise, it was overly heavy, though still perfectly balanced. Remembering the trick he had used on the bracer, he tried it on the sword as well. "Sword, I ask for your blessing and help when I need it. I give you now this gift of essence."

The sword glowed briefly, and then began changing drastically. The blade changed from a brilliant gold to a subdued blue jade color. The blade itself lengthened and thickened; until it was the length of his father's sword, though still half the width. It was also much, much lighter now. He dropped it on a whim, and the crash of it hitting the floor told him that it was only light when in his hands, which suited him just fine. He tried sheathing it, before realizing that the blade was now much larger than the sheath. To his surprise, the point of the blade, which was nearest the opening of the sheath, slimmed down and shortened, allowing him to sheath it completely. Just to ensure that he wasn't hallucinating, he drew it again, and it lengthened and thickened again as he drew it, shortening as he sheathed it once more. Amazing, he thought. Absolutely amazing.

He tied the blade's sheath to the space on his back previously occupied by his father's blade. He attuned the bow as well, which darkened to the same jade-like color as the blade did after he did so. Amazing, though very strange.

Kale smiled as his eyes passed by the basket of rubies, and picked up the one he knew now was certainly no ruby. It glowed as his hands touched it. He remembered that Melia had it within a socket on the bracer he now wore, and he placed the strange glowing gem in the socket. It immediately glowed so brilliantly it almost blinded him, and faded just as quickly into an ordinary, unassuming-looking red gem within his bracer. He covered it with his heavy overcoat sleeve.

He couldn't resist thinking about the strange sword and bow; how they at first appeared to be made of gold, and had changed into the jade that the Dragon-Blooded normally carried.

As he had hoped, Melia answered. Her voice was thick and very tired; he knew how much of an effort this was becoming for her. " _The five magical materials, Kale. One for each kind of Exalt in existence. Orichalcum, which responds best to Solars. Moonsilver, for the Lunars. Soulsteel, for the Abyssals. Starmetal, for the Sidereals. And Jade, for the Dragon-Blooded. If soldiers saw you carrying orichalcum weapons, they'd know you were a Solar instantly._ "

He nodded. That made sense; there was no point in advertising his existence, after all.

He packed up all his gear, leaving his father's bow and sword lying reverently on the table in the center of the room. He took one last look at this room that held in material things all Melia's memories, before turning his back and walking out. He walked right up to the guardian, and asked, "Hey, that panel by the door I remember Melia playing with - what does it do, exactly?"

The eyes flared to life behind the huge helmet, and the head turned to look down at him. "IT HIDES THIS DEMENSE FROM PRYING EYES."

"Was it active when I walked in?"

"NO."

Well, alright then. "Thank you, Guardian. Please guard this place until I return." He remembered Melia's words to this same armored giant, long ago. Yes, he should do the same thing. "Let no one in but me. If I die, the signet ring will be in the passageway you guard."

It nodded at him. "UNDERSTOOD."

"Farewell, Guardian." He walked to the panel, and nearly started pressing the symbols before opening the door. He didn't know what would happen if he pressed the symbols before opening the door, but since the Guardian said that this palace sunk beneath the sands, he probably wouldn't be able to leave easily. He opened the door, and then hurriedly pressed the symbols before darting outside, just as Melia had done long ago. He ran outside for a distance before turning around to see the very top of the palace sink beneath the desert sands.

He was ready, now. Melia had taught him well the basic tricks he needed to learn before walking the world alone, and given him the gift of her knowledge, memory, and a few of her possessions.

He began the long walk back to the forest he was raised within, and to Thorns.


	19. The Killing Fields of Thorns

Rosethorne hid her surprise well, as she saw the thousands of soldiers massed in perfect formation on the parade ground. War machines were evenly dispersed amongst the ranks of various kinds, designed for specific purposes. It appeared Greta had been a very busy woman.

Most of the soldiers were animated and slightly intelligent skeletons, each clad in steel armor, and carrying a sheathed standard-issue infantry blade. Their armamaments hadn't been made of soulsteel, as the metal only reacted properly to Deathknights, or their Deathlord superiors. A few others were wraiths given newly made human corpses to inhabit and animate, with the rest being fanatically loyal living, breathing humans. Rosethorne hid a smile as she saw that all of her former regiment were amongst the huge force.

The war machines were mostly bone caterpillars, which were created by taking over one hundred humans, cutting each of them in half above the hips, and joining head to torso of the next. As the humans died, their consciousnesses were trapped within the mass, giving it a semblance of life, and a thirst for revenge, directed at anyone their recognized superiors designated.

What she saw behind the masses of troops almost took her breath away. The Juggernaut, one of the last remaining truly fantastic creatures of the surface world and well-nigh unkillable, had been brought to heel by her Lord. Its flesh had been desiccated, and its skin clung tightly to the bones within. It was lying on its stomach, and would use its truly awe-inspiringly large arms to propel itself along the ground.

Her Lord's voice caught her attention. "Your forces are ready, General. Are you ready to take Thorns for my glory?"

She still was angry at how he had treated her over the Yozi skirmish, however this would be an effective way of channeling her anger constructively. She nodded, and saluted him. "No life will mar the perfect glory of death within Thorns after I am finished, Lord."

He returned the nod, and returned his attention to the troops massed below. "I will use the Juggernaut's still moving corpse as my mobile base of operations. I will follow you with my own assembled force, and clean up anything you leave behind. For your sake, don't leave much."

She nodded once, her ice-blue eyes coolly surveying her army.

"This is now your force, since you have proven capable of such a task. Address them, rally them, and prepare them to march. Do not fail me." With that, he glided back inside.

She stepped forward, holding the railing of the balcony with soulsteel-mailed hands. She raised her head high, and gathered her essence to channel her voice, and the emotions she wished those gathered below to feel, underflowing the current of her speech. She spoke with artificial emotion to assist the rote, her voice carrying loud and clear to the entire mass of soldiers.

"We will go forth and take the surface town of Thorns for the glory of our Lord, to show that nor even the surface is safe from his blessing of death and unlife! It is our job to clear the way for our Lord, and we will not fail!"

Nearly invisible trails of essence coursed from her being, and washed over the assembled troops, holding their full attention. Every one of the massed soldiers raised their weapons in salute, yelling savagely. She then stepped away from the balcony, turned on her heel, and marched through the castle to the parade ground below, donning her helmet and tiger-claw khatar as she did so. She walked to the stables, and found a fresh warstrider waiting for her, also armored in soulsteel. She did not have the time to indulge herself in the pleasure of breaking the creature, made of bone, soulsteel, and necromancy as ancient as the Malfeans themselves.

It rose on its hind legs, a hollow otherworldly scream echoing from its chest cavity. She glared at it, the essence within her channeling her intention to cow it utterly. It landed on its front legs, holding still, and she leapt into the cavity, the bones of the cavity creaking around her waist to hold her securely.

She rode out to meet her army face to face. She trotted her warstrider in front of her troops in silence, studying them. There were no new troops; these were all beings, alive and otherwise, well familiar with death and how to deal it. She trotted to the west side of the gathered army, putting herself between the army and the slowly opening shadowland that connected her Lord's domain to the world above. She turned slightly, and faced them, her ice-blue eyes glowing visibly behind her helm.

She unsheathed and raised her scimitar to the inky sky above. "For the glory of the Mask, and the death he commands!"

The huge gathered army raised their voices in unison in reply. "For the glory of the Mask!"

She dropped her scimitar, and turned to face the shadowland opening slowly off in the distance in front of her. She began to trot her warstrider in a slow pace, and she swiftly heard the well-trained marching steps of thousands trailing behind her.

The essence flared in her veins, thrumming and coursing with power, to equal the adrenaline that began to flow as well, as it always did for her on the eve of a battle. Some distance behind her, she heard a rumbling boom that signaled one of the huge arms of the Juggernaut beginning to turn.

She marched her troops for the hour it took to reach the newly-formed shadowland, on the edge of her Lord's domain. She raised her scimitar once more to the sky, and yelled "CHARGE!" at her gathered troops, before breaking into a gallop at the yawning, swirling inky darkness and grey, intermingled with undecipherable things. The shadowland seemed to cling to her like a forsaken lover as she raced through, but its tendrils dragged reluctantly away from her as she raced to the light growing quickly larger, and burst through.

She immediately had to blink a few times to adjust her eyes to the unnatural brightness around her, and it took a moment for her to gain her bearings. Oh, she would kill a few more mortals here, just for making her suffer this abominable light. She heard the first company of her army marching through the surface side of the shadowland. She turned, and beheld the town of Thorns for the first time, as she raced toward it.

She didn't see more than two archers per wall around the town, which meant that they were by no means expecting this attack. One guard on either side of the main door confirmed this. She smiled to herself while leaning forward on her warstrider, forcing it to run even faster, its feet making the ground shudder.

* * *

Johen and Auric stood at each side of the gate, as usual. Two more days, and then they would get to go out for a good night  
of drinking, smoking, and random debauchery. The day had gone by slowly, as usual, the hot summer day beginning to cool.

Auric lifted his helmet to scratch the top of his head. He sighed, as he wiped his forehead with the hankerchief he kept in his pocket. "Ya know, Johen, sometimes this makes you wish something would happen."

His friend looked at him, giving him an odd look through his whiskery face. "Like what? Why are you so anxious to have 'something happen' all of a sudden?"

Auric shrugged as he pulled his pipe out of his pouch, and began packing it again, making sure its contents weren't pressed down too tightly. "I dunno, I'm just saying this job is boring sometimes."

Johen narrowed his eyes at his friend, glaring briefly at Auric's pipe. Auric had been smoking out of that foul thing every two hours, unfailingly, for the last five months. At first, it was a novelty, the smell being something he didn't mind all that much. But now, the sheer unfailing repetition with which his friend smoked that damnable pipe was getting on his nerves. "Good, I like boring. It means we get paid pretty well for standing here and not doing a damn thing, and that's something I can live with. And must you keep smoking that pipe all the damn time?"

Auric looked surprised, and turned to look at his friend. "Why didn't ya say somethin'?"

That took some of the wind out from Johen's sails. "Ach, I dunno." He paused, seeing something in the distance. He squinted at it, barely making out what it was through the hot, shimmering summer evening breezes. He reached out without taking his eyes off the spectacle in the distance to tap his friend on the shoulder, but accidently knocked the pipe out of his friend's hand.

"Hey, if you wanted me to not light up, you coulda jus' said somethin'! 'S not like ya had to be rude about it, or anything!"

Johen still had not averted his eyes from the thing in the distance that he could now barely make out as a figure, in all black, riding what looked like...an off-white horse. "Hey Auric, you see that?"

"What?" His friend crouched and looking at the ground, trying to recover his pipe.

"Auric, look up, and tell me what you see." The figure, he could see now, was riding that horse like something possessed. It was galloping directly toward them.

"Just a damn minute, I'm almost done." Auric decided to make his friend wait for a few moments. Johen just knocking it out of his hands had really pissed him off. Right after he said something about it too, which made it worse.

"Auric, I'm serious, look up." Johen began to feel the faint vibrations of that figure's horse's feet pounding into the ground at a full gallop. It appeared to have no intention of slowing down.

"Fine, fine." Auric fit his pipe into his mouth, and lit it, inhaling the pungent and pleasant smoke. He looked up in the middle of his next puff, and stopped. "What the hell...?"

Johen decided to hail the rider. "Hey, you! Stop and identify yourself! Where do you think you're off to in such a damn hurry?"

The figure made no move to slow down. The vibrations of the figure's horse running flat out toward them began to feel more pronounced now.

Johen's hand began to inch toward his sword and he spoke to his friend before addressing the dark figure again. "You and your big mouth, Auric." He turned his face slightly back to the rider, who he could see was wearing featureless black armor, armor that didn't reflect the setting sun like it was supposed to. "You! Halt, and identify yourself!"

Both of them could hear the sounds of the black-armored figure's horse galloping swiftly toward them now. Auric's eyes, being better than Johen's, grew wide as he realized that the horse had no head, and he couldn't see the rider's legs. His voice rung out in what would have been an authorative tone, were it not for the slight faltering in his voice from the fear he suddenly felt grip him. "We order you to halt and identify yourself! We're not going to tell you again!"

They both saw the figure's right arm reach to its left side, and withdraw a curved blade made of the same featureless black material. Both of them groped for their swords, their hands clumsy in their haste. Auric was the first to have his ready. He looked toward the figure again, the hoofbeats against the ground making the ground shake, and the noise growing to a crescendo. He saw the figure holding its arms wide, as if for peace, but its right hand held the long, curved blade, and its right had a claw of some sort attached to it.

Both felt a slash of pain through their necks, hearing the dark rider crashing through the town gate before everything went dark.

* * *

She saw so many commoners; it was difficult to find a place to start. She heard raised voices of alarm to her left, and decided that would be a perfect starting point, and slew every man, woman, and child in her way with swift strikes of khatar and scimitar. Quickly, the normal noonday buzz of the town was replaced by screams and shouts of alarm as she began cutting down everyone in her way.

Soon, she saw a company of soldiers racing through the marketplace toward her, and she smiled behind her helmet. She charged towards them, as they readied their long pikes to stop her charge. The pikes' wooden handles snapped as they hit the bone and soulsteel of her warstrider, and she was swiftly among them, acting as a starving tiger would among rabbits, in an enclosed room.

Just as she finished off this pitifully trained group of guards, the screams grew louder as her army gained the town gates. For the first time since she had reached the surface, she spoke to her troops, uncaring if the screaming townspeople of guards overheard her. It would make their fear even more tangible. "Let none escape this place alive!"

She knew that two regiments had encircled the town, allowing none to leave. The rest were slaying everyone within with terrifying efficiency.

Leaving the common areas to her troops, she galloped her warstrider up the circular stone stairs that led to the upper levels, where the rich and ruling class lived. She had her warstrider rear up on its hind legs as she reached the first door, and kick the door off its hinges, revealing a very startled and fat merchant in the middle of having his way with a harem girl.

Men are all alike, and women who allow them their ways deserved to die as well. She cleaved through them, and left for the next room. This merchant saw her enter, and had a saber ready. Her scimitar cleaved through both saber and man in a heartbeat. She continued down this corridor, continuing her grim task, until she reached the door at the end, leading up to more stairs, the doorway too small to allow her warstrider through. She dismounted, and began racing like a shadow up the stairs.

She threw her shoulder at the thick wooden door, which gave way to her savage inhuman strength, revealing a man surrounded by armed and ready guards. She smiled again; she was hoping for a proper fight, and she hadn't been subtle or silent at all about slaying the people in the rooms below.

"You, halt! We'll give you riches, anything if you leave us and my town in peace!" The guards trembled slightly, though with foolish and reckless adrenaline or fear, she wasn't quite sure, though she certainly smelled fear on the fat man dressed in cumbersome silks.

She walked in with long strides, just out of range of the guards' sword reach. "There's only one thing that you have that I want." The guards and the man seemed surprised to hear her voice, but then, the men always did. She dove amongst the guards, slaying them rapidly, their sword thrusts parried and dodged without breaking her stride or rhythm in the least. In seconds, she stood alone in the room with the man, whose fear was now palatable.

"Do you know what I want from you?" She asked, in a low, menacing monotone.

"W-what do you want?" asked the fat fool.

"Your head!" As she neatly took it.

She trotted downstairs, mounting her warstrider downstairs, and began galloping down the circular stone stairs once more to see how her troops had fared.

She smiled as she saw the spectral wisps of the shadowland had begun spreading into town, attracted by the many sudden and violent deaths within. Surprisingly, the main force of soldiers from this town had managed to cut down quite a few of their soldiers, in a heroic, if foolish, last stand. She closed her eyes, and listened. All she heard was the blessed, beautiful sound of silence, along with the irregular stomping of her soldiers.

Even her soldiers gasped with shock as the terrifying large bulk of the Juggernaut broke free of the caressing tendrils of the shadowland, now large enough to admit it. The Mask of Winters stood on the back of the huge head, with reigns tied to the huge decaying being's nose, mouth, and eyelids, with the ends of the reigns firmly in his outstretched hands. It lurched forward tremendously as it pulled its unimaginable weight after its outstretched arm, and continued in this way to the town walls.

The Mask of Winters levitated from the top of the Juggernaut's head, and onto the wall, and from there to stand near Rosethorne, who respectfully dismounted, removed her helmet, and saluted her Lord.

He closed his eyes, and began slowly turning in place, before facing her once more, with eyes open. "You have performed as you hoped you would, my General. I am pleased for your sake, as there are no people left alive here."

She nodded respectfully, and said nothing.

"The many wraiths you have created today, by the pain and uncertainty of their deaths will supplant my kingdom well. Many more soulsteel weapons, and some useful minions have begun their servitude to me this day."

She nodded once more to him, words being redundant.

"Take a force of one thousand troops, and scour the lands around this place. Bring the sweet release of death to all you encounter."

She saluted him once more. "It will be done, Lord." With that, she hopped back into her warstrider and donned her helmet once more. She gathered this strike force to her, and left the town gates.


	20. To Assault the Darkness of Thorns

Some instinct told him he should move quickly, so Kale kept up a jogging pace ever since he left Melia's Demesne. He didn't notice at first, but the landscape was moving by faster than normal. At first, he attributed it to one of the nuances of having essence, but he knew he wasn't channeling any. He also noticed that the gem he had placed in his new bracer was scintillating softly. On a whim, he took the gem out, and started jogging again, and was covering half as much ground as before.

Well, this was interesting. He placed the gem back in, and sped back up. Seeing just how quickly the landscape was whipping by, he knew that if anyone saw him, they'd know immediately he was moving preternaturally fast. He grinned. Well, if they saw him, they'd have to catch him, wouldn't they?

However, just to be on the safe side, he concentrated for a moment. He seemed to melt into his surroundings, and he took off again. He smiled again as he ran, an indecipherable blur moving quickly through the desert, and into the grasslands.

Just a few more hours. He didn't know where the sense of urgency he felt was coming from, but since his intuition had saved his life already a few times, he decided not to question it overmuch. In fact, as an added precaution, he channeled his essence through his anima, which responded by muting the little sound he was making, and blurring his form even more. This would make him more tired, but the ground he could cover undetected was well worth it, he decided.

He decided to bank left to head to Thorns first before going into the forest he called home. He didn't know why, but he did feel that it was a necessary thing. He slowed to a stop on the edge of the canyon west of Thorns, and his jaw dropped in shock. He squinted to get a better view, and the essence within him responded to his unspoken request, clarifying his vision clearly to see into the distance.

What were these things? Some looked like skeletons. Walking around. In armor, carrying swords.

He blinked. This was certainly unexpected. "Hey Melia, if you're still in any shape to talk...what the hell happened here?"

She didn't respond with words. Images of a dark, shadowy, desolate place filled his mind's eye, of ghosts, dead things, and pale-skinned people that...he was having trouble figuring out what the images and feelings meant. Like him, but...filled with death? That didn't make much sense.

He blinked again. "Wait a minute...are those pale-skinned people...Abyssals?"

He felt a warm feeling in return, which he took as a yes. "And those Abyssals...made these skeleton-things?"

Another warm feeling, and another series of images...of the pale-skinned ones crafting...things, made of bone, and parts of still-living people. High above, on a balcony, he saw a thin, tall man, wearing a mask of cold black metal that covered his eyes and nose, but left his mouth revealed. He was dressed in funeral clothes, looking down on all this below him...and smiling. His upper lip curled slightly, to help cover the shiver he felt when he saw that man. "That's just wrong. They actually do that?"

Another warm feeling of assent. The enormity of what Melia had told him made him lose his balance, and collapse cross-legged onto the ground. He looked around the town's perimeter, and saw an inky, shadowy substance caressing the walls of the town, and flowing like blood for a mile outside the town's limits.

"Is that...black thing how they got into Thorns?"

Another warm feeling, with a word afterward: _Shadowland_. He saw in his mind's eye how the Shadowlands on the world he knew connected to the dark, shadowy place of the dead she had shown him before.

A flash of light off to the east caught his attention. He squinted again, and his vision clarified what he was seeing off in the far distance. A large army, comprised of people wearing red jade armor, marching in unison. The huge force seemed to be over a thousand strong, from what he could make out at this distance. He felt a feeling of anger and hatred coming from Melia, and quickly figured out who they were.

He squinted a little more, and details became clearer. The two companies at the front had no armor, carrying just long spears with wicked-looking points, and shields on their opposite arms. Their arms were bare, though they were wearing loose-fitting clothing. He counted over two hundred of the Speardancers alone. Two hundred more were riding horses around the perimeter of the force, the rest were wearing blander, metal armor. So, it appeared that the Immaculate Order had sent a force comprised of at least half Dragon-Blooded soldiers. He got the impression from Melia that this was rare, especially in recent times.

Kale did some quick thinking. "So, that guy connected the land of the dead to this world with that Shadowland over there, and took over the town. He must've known that would've attracted the Immaculate Order's attention. Are they holding hostages?"

He felt a cold feeling from her, and got the half-image, half-feeling that there was no life left, of any kind, in Thorns. He swallowed.

"Is that tall man I saw in funeral robes the Mask of Winters you told me about?"

A warm feeling again.

"Did he have all the people in Thorns slain because he's a sadistic bastard, or because he had a purpose?"

He saw images of the people dying, their minds, their very souls unable to cope with such a violent end as they had received. Unable to move on back into the cycle of life and rebirth, they appeared in the Underworld as ghosts, which were quickly rounded up and inspected by the pale-skinned ones. Some were taken away as servants, but most received a thumbs-down verdict from those doing the inspecting, and were dragged away to giant furnaces and forges, where...he closed his eyes to block out the images. The images skipped past the wraiths being forced into a vat of molten steel, hundreds of them forced magically to stay within the molten vat, screaming and pleading for their captors to change their minds. He saw metalsmiths forging the black, shadowy steel into implements of war, which screamed in pain and torment with every blow of the smith's hammer.

He couldn't help shuddering. His mind quickly made the connection, though. "What happens if an Exalt, like, say, a Dragon-Blooded one dies and becomes a wraith?"

He saw images of the wraiths either being kept in servitude for a specific task, or...making even stronger tools of war.

His jaw dropped slightly. "He took Thorns to fuel his little war effort, turning the dead into weapons to help further his campaign...and leading the Dragon-Blooded who come even now into a trap, to hopefully get a stronger army and begin spreading throughout this world?"

Another warm feeling.

"Do the Dragon-Blooded soldiers marching on Thorns know about this?"

Nothing. He guessed she didn't know.

The enormity of this collapsed around him, as he gazed off into the distance, staring at nothing. "The plague that killed my parents was a recruitment drive for Winters' war effort, wasn't it?"

A short pause, and another warm feeling.

He couldn't help the tear that slid slowly down his cheek, but the sadness was quickly replaced by anger. His eyes narrowed, his jaw clenched and unclenched.

The glint of sunlight reflecting from red jade armor grew brighter as the soldiers grew nearer, catching his attention once more. He saw that the majority of them were still heading toward Thorns, but a smaller force detached and began making a wide circuit around the town, and toward the canyon below him. It looked like an expeditionary force, out to check the perimeter. Ten Speardancers and about forty Dragon-Blooded infantry led the force, supported by a few hundred soldiers wearing ordinary steel armor. Mortal soldiers, he guessed.

It was then that he saw them. On the far mouth of the canyon, on the opposite side of where the Dragon-Blooded regiment was approaching, stood a huge force of armed skeletons, with some humans and what appeared to be zombies for good measure. Behind them all, he saw the figure. A figure in all black armor, riding a pale horse. He squinted, and discovered that where the horse's head should be, the figure was instead. The "horse" was...made of bone and black metal. He saw a bluish glow behind the eye slits of the figure's helmet.

He clenched his jaw and unclenched it again. "The smaller Dragon-Blooded force is walking right into a trap."

Another warm feeling, as Melia agreed.

As the last of the smaller force entered the canyon, he saw that another large force of skeletons and zombie-like things were closing off the mouth of the canyon in silence.

He made a decision. As much as Melia absolutely despised the Dragon-Blooded, they were a lesser evil than that Mask of Winters bastard taking over the entire world he knew, one patch of land at a time. He stood, and concentrated once more, fading from view as he pulled his new bow off his shoulder, and nocked an arrow. He inhaled, holding his breath as he concentrated. Right before he released, the arrow glowed slightly, and he felt the rote Melia had taught him begin to take effect. With preternatural speed, his arm pulled an arrow from his quiver, nocked it, and fired within the span of a second, the arrow striking a skeleton at the base of the neck. He repeated the movements rapidly as the back line of the undead force began to collapse from his arrows.

Some of the Dragon-Blooded heard, and word was quickly spread to the rest of the forces. Half the force still faced the dead army with the dark rider in its pale horse; the other half protected their backs against the dead attacking from behind. They began to skirmish with the dead army behind them, the mortal soldiers finding to their cost that the dead ones lost no strength or ferocity from cuts, lost limbs, or injuries.

Kale's bow was by no means idle. He sent arrow after arrow, each homing unerringly upon the weak spot in a given undead soldier's armor. The back ranks of the skeletal army began to thin rapidly.

He suddenly heard voices near him, with pounding feet nearing his location. "The arrows came from over here!"

"Are you _sure_ the arrows were sent to attack our force, Commander? None of them seemed aimed at them."

"Don't question me, fool. The snipers' bows probably don't have the range to hit our force, so their arrows are falling short."

"Volley after volley, Commander?"

"Well, let's find the snipers and ask them!"

Kale had heard enough, though he grinned slightly at how they thought he was many snipers. He channeled his essence into his anima again, further muting any sound he might mistakenly make, and hiding him from view further. He raced silently toward the mouth of the canyon, putting his bow back over his shoulder, and drawing his sword, which grew in his hand as he drew it. He rested the blade on his right shoulder, held in his right hand, with the edge pointing away from his neck. Better safe than sorry, after all, he thought.

He faded rapidly into view again as he struck the first swift blow at the neck of the undead soldier nearest him, furthest to the rear of the force. He didn't stop swinging rapidly, the gem making each strike twice as fast. They tried to strike back, but it seemed as if they were moving through molasses, with each strike easily avoidable. He parried the few strikes he couldn't dodge with his bracer or sword, and continued striking in an unbroken pattern.

"That's an Anathema!" he heard from one of the soldiers. "The Anathema are leading this dead to kill us!"

Roars of anger spurred the Immaculate soldiers into further action, striking down more and more of the undead soldiers. The Dragon-Blooded ones flared their animas into existence, adding colors of green and earthy brown, light blue with swirling ice crystals, reddish-orange flames, and swirling water to the malaise of battle below.

Bloody hell, that meant his damnable Mark was visible again. He shouted back, "And why the hell would I want to help the dead, you idiots?"

That quieted their voices as they saw he was striking at the dead, not at them. That didn't last for long however, as another of their soldiers yelled out, "It's a trap! They have Anathema behind us and in front of us!"

Wow, you're quick, thought Kale. "Yes, and that's why I'm helping take care of the ones behind you!"

"He lies!"

Now the last of the would-be ambushing small army of the dead had been cut down, with the half of the force still looking at him, and preparing to charge at him. Kale yelled at them as he began running to the mouthy of the canyon, where he could race along the side of the canyon. "Turn around and help your friends!"

Right after he spoke his warning, the dark figure had raised a black sword, and yelled "Charge!" in a somewhat effeminate voice. The much larger undead army began quickly closing the distance between them and the somewhat reduced numbers of the smaller Immaculate force. Kale quickly counted the numbers of each force as he ran, and saw that the Immaculate army was still outnumbered five to one. Since the some of the Immaculate force were Dragon-Blooded Exalts after all, this looked to be a very even battle still. However, that dark figure had stayed behind, and that made Kale a little nervous.

The Dark figure swept a half circle with its sword, and pointed at Kale, who had forgotten to cloak himself again. He saw arrows from the back ranks of the dead surrounding the figure begin to fly at him, which he barely dodged in time.

" _Kale..._ "

Nice timing, Melia, he thought. "Yeah Melia? I'm a little busy trying not to get turned into a pincushion at the moment!"

" _That dark figure...I recognize it._ "

"Great, old friend of yours? What, you want me to drop by and offer tea and cookies?"

" _That figure has the Essence of my husband within her._ "

That almost broke his stride as he ran, not able to dodge an arrow in time to feel it bite into his side. Hoping his new rapid healing ability still worked, he painfully yanked it free of his side with a grunt of pain. "I know this is painful for you Melia, but I'm not going to let that Winters guy start turning all the lands I know into an undead amusement park."

" _All I ask...is that if she falls in battle, save her life. Don't let her die._ "

Kale dove into some nearby bushes, so he could cloak himself and become hidden once more, and hopefully heal the arrow wound before he would be forced into the conflict again. Then Melia's words hit him. "...What?"


	21. As the Rose's Petals Fall

Rosethorne smiled behind her helmet. She could hear the telltale sounds of the bone caterpillars arriving. She truly hated not being involved in the slaughter of the Immaculate fools who dared try to take back this backwater town, but the bone caterpillars had this irritating tendency to attack anything alive, which included Abyssals.

She heard the screams of anguish and surprise as the one bone caterpillar reared up on each side of the canyon, smelling for blood. They did a sinuous, snake-like dance before racing down the sides, straight at the Immaculate force. She began to hear the screams as the bone caterpillars hungrily began devouring her foes one at a time, in a vain attempt to clothe their bony limbs with flesh once again.

She raised her sword, and signaled for her skeleton archers to fire another volley at the fool to had dared foil her ambush. What disturbed her slightly is that she could have sworn she saw the glint of gold from that meddler's forehead. She hadn't seen the telltale sign of the golden Solar anima that accompanied the normal Solar Caste Mark, so he probably wasn't one. He was probably dead now, as she had seen him dive into a bush like a coward, but it was best to be sure by sending a few volleys of arrows at the bushes where he hid.

She raised an eyebrow as some of the Dragon-Blooded began attacking the bone caterpillars viciously. She smiled. Due to how they were constructed, as long as one link was connected to another, a bone caterpillar would continue moving and devouring. She frowned slightly as the Dragon-Blooded, with their weak animas flaring, figured this out and struck down segment after segment. Both were half-gone now, and rapidly growing smaller. She decided that her waiting was over, and charged her warstrider toward the Immaculate force.

For this kind of fighting, being mounted would prove to be as much a liability as an asset, and so she leapt high from her warstrider once it was close enough, and dove into the Immaculate force, striking down two as she landed.

The Dragon-Blooded were tougher than the ones she normally slew, but not by too much. Two rapid strikes dispatched them. This slowed her down, but with each arrogant Dragon-Blooded that fell, their morale dropped just a little bit more as she tore through them like a hungry and bloody tornado.

She noticed idly that night was beginning to fall, which made her smile. The thrice-accursed sunlight would finally dim, and her enemies would know truly that these were their last hours of life. She fought more and more fluidly as the light dimmed, being more and more comfortable in the descending darkness.

She was beginning to taste their fear now, even from the normally haughty Dragon-Blooded. She decided to terrify them further, just as the sun dipped below the horizon. She channeled her essence through her anima.

Her Caste Mark burned and bled into existence behind her helmet, as shadows gathered around her to alternately hide her and make her appear much larger. Ghostly ice-blue sheets of light began streaming around her, mingling with the nearly tangible shadows. She could now taste the Immaculate army's fear was threefold, and she dove to attack once more, their fear making her strike all the harder and more hungrily.

One thing she despised about the surface world was that she couldn't regain her essence as she normally would, in the cool, comforting gloom of the Underworld. So, she had learned to take it by force, in the form of wounds on any being with Exalted essence within them, which included the Dragon-Blooded.

With each blow struck, she felt stronger, as she drew essence from their wounds and into her body. She began using her more terrifying killing arts, becoming a blur of soulsteel on the darkened canyon floor.

The formerly large expeditionary force of the Immaculate fools had dwindled into a small group of terrified soldiers, knowing that they were fighting for their very lives, and as some suspected correctly, their very souls as well.

Her eyes narrowed as she faced the far canyon mouth, as she saw that Immaculate reinforcements had arrived. She'd lost only a quarter of her force in the last battle that even now was concluding with gurgling screams. The undead don't tire thankfully, so she was not unduly worried about how long her troops had been fighting. However, though the group approaching was half the size of the one she and her army had slaughtered, this one appeared to be comprised entirely of Dragon-Blooded troops.

She smiled behind her helmet now. This meant she could drain the essence from their bodies and keep using it nearly to slay them in a beautifully predatory cycle. How utterly fitting, she thought, as she charged at them.

She saw one of the Immaculates in the front of the army raise her hands, and point an outstretched palm at her. Obsidian butterflies of various sizes began flying from her palm toward Rosethorne. She was surprised to see the first of them actually make a small dent in her armor, and began parrying furiously. She was struck a few times when she failed to parry a razor-winged obsidian butterfly, but was unhurt. Unhurt, but very angry. She charged at them once more, and slew the sorceress with the first strike, and continued on through the ranks. Trails of essence, glowing visibly in the darkness, flowed visibly into her from the ones she wounded and slew. These troops appeared to be stronger and more experienced than the ones she fought before, and now that they had gotten over their initial shock, were fighting back with unbridled ferocity.

They attempted to surround her with their useless Speardancers, but she evaded this rather obvious ploy. Her troops had now caught up with her, and began attacking the Immaculate force. Now that she had slain the sorceress they had, and the troops they had in front, she would allow her force to crush them.

She leapt backwards, flipping gracefully through the air to land behind the last of her troops, and extinguished her anima, rendering her nearly invisible in the darkness. She began to channel her fully-replenished essence to make her troops fight faster, harder, and be able to resist damage a bit more than their undead frames already could. She smiled in satisfaction as her troops began hitting the Immaculate fools in waves, cutting them down slowly, but surely.

She heard one of the Dragon-Blooded shout something in a language she didn't recognize, and the ones in front darted back a couple yards. Her undead army began charging forward to close the gap. She saw with alarm that a second sorcerer had cast that same accursed spell, filling the night canyon air with razor-winged obsidian butterflies once again, which began shredding her troops. They fought gamely on, but the butterflies kept coming, taking off limbs, heads, and tearing through armor with appalling ease. She signaled her archers to fire in volleys, cursing herself for getting carried away in the battle and forgetting about them.

She ran back into the fray, and noticed that half of her force had been cut down by those damnable butterflies, and she was even more angry at herself for not staying in the fray, as she should have done. She began fighting like a bloody typhoon unleashed on the Immaculate troops, striking with celerity and fury.

She didn't see the giant mace that hit her, but she certainly felt it as she soared backwards. She tried to land on her feet, but hit the canyon wall too quickly, and slid to the canyon floor below.

She drifted in and out of consciousness, seeing her troops beaten back into unmoving corpses once more. She heard shouts from the Dragon-Blooded. "Find that dark-armored one who slew so many of us! That one will pay with blood!"

She felt arms pick her up and fold her over someone's shoulder, and then steps that jarred her stomach as her captor ran. She managed to tilt her head to the side, and saw that whoever it was, this person wasn't wearing armor, and she was being carried away from the Dragon-Blooded.

Darkness claimed her, and she knew no more.


	22. As the Spirals Begin to Close

As Kale looked off into the distance, he could see the first rays of the morning sun beginning to appear sleepily over the Eastern horizon, illuminating the scene below him. The once-bustling and safe town of Thorns had been changed so drastically in the space of one night.

The city was surrounded by thousands of red jade armor-clad soldiers of the Immaculate order, with specific groups of them performing various tasks: running patrols, sitting in guard at the entraces to the town; some were even relaxing around morning campfires, laughing about jokes each other told as they shaved their faces and filled their bellies. More importantly, it seemed that no patrols seemed headed this way, which meant that for now, he and his strange new companion were safe from immediate discovery.

Now that the sun's light was once again beginning to bathe the land with warm, bright light, he could look at this person more clearly. He had gently propped the figure against a tree in an upright sitting position carefully, minding the sharp and somewhat bloody weapons the figure had attached to its left hand, and clutched tightly, with inhuman strength in its right hand. The figure had lain still, though its helmet was twisted to the side on the figure's face, and hadn't moved much since he had grabbed this person. Whoever it was, it had resisted his strongest efforts to take off the claw, and remove the wicked-looking hooked scimitar from its right hand. Shrugging, he had let them be.

What had unsettled him the most was the armor this person wore. It seemed featureless and smooth when he was carrying this person from the fray of battle to this hopefully secluded place, but after he had set this person down, he noticed...little things. Tiny faces had appeared and disappeared in her armor in smooth waves of motion, moaning and making eerie noises in unison. The cries and noises were very faint, but just loud enough for his sharp ears to make out clearly. The faces had followed his movement, their eyeless faces facing him as he changed position. It was after this that he decided to simply let the figure be, and attempt to ignore the tiny noises emanating from the armor, with varying degrees of success.

As the sun began to came up, its soft, life-giving light had illuminated a large dent on the back of this person's helmet, which was now the obvious cause of the helmet getting twisted around. He looked carefully at the dent, and he was now a bit more surprised this person wasn't dead, from the impact which he had seen this figure make upon the hard rock of the canyon wall. The sickening crunching noise as this figure had hid the wall made Kale wince out of sympathy; he guessed there was now a permanent impression of this figure's body in the wallface.

He studied the figure more closely in the early rays of the morning sun. Completely encased in this strange, featureless black metal, it was impossible to tell much about the person encased within, other than whoever or whatever it was, it was tall, nearly as tall as he was, and Kale wasn't exactly a short man. He might not be a broad-chested giant, but he was pretty tall, and this figure was within a bare few inches of his height.

The armor itself was darkly beautiful, in a way, and obviously not made to be ornamental. It didn't have any unnecessary symbols, projections, or fancy bits for ornamentation, with the curious exception of the swept-back horns, stylized on the sides of the helmet, meeting one another and crossing like serpents looking in opposite directions in the back. The front of the helmet had a full facemask, hiding and protecting the face of whoever was still inside. The faceplate itself was also rather spartan, with a black metal mesh covering the eyes, and a large mask-like metal plate covering the nose and mouth. Well, where those parts would have been, had the helmet not been twisted around to the side.

This began to bother him a bit. If he were unconscious, he didn't think he'd be especially comfortable with his nose pressed into the side of a helmet, with no nearby spaces for air. He began to gently try to move the helmet into its proper position. He was surprised with the helmet's stubborn weight, as it barely moved an inch at a time. He didn't want to yank on it, as that might make matters worse with the person inside. Little by little though, he managed to coax the helmet to face the direction it was supposed to. He sat back, studying what he could see of the face hidden behind the black steel mesh covering the eyes. Well, whoever it was, it didn't look like a skeleton.

Melia had said that whoever this person was, it contained the Essence of her former husband. Melia also said that this figure was a woman, though how she could tell, he didn't know.

He noticed that the regular rise and falls of the woman's chest were becoming a little more labored. Surprisingly, this woman was having more trouble breathing with her helmet on straight than when it was twisted around to the side. Well, he could fix that as well. He gently began pulling on the helmet, but it didn't move even the tiniest part of a fingernail's length upwards. He checked all around the helmet, and noticed a cunningly-designed slot where the helmet would lock into the chestplate of the armor, allowing the user to swivel their head, but the helmet would stay on. He swiveled the helmet around as gently as he could, given its stubborn weight until he saw a tab on the back of the helmet, sticking through the slot on the back of the armor. He gently pulled upwards, and it unlocked, allowing him to remove the helmet.

What he expected was to see a bony face, with few scraps of flesh stuck to her dessicated face. He expected to see what amounted to a human skeleton with eyes, and mummified skin stretched tightly over the bones of her face. He didn't expect her to look as she did.

Long, sinuously flowing black hair crowned a pale face; the kind of pale he'd expect to see from someone who hadn't seen the sun in a very long time, but it wasn't the kind of pale you'd see on a corpse. Her lips were painted black, and were the only things painted on her beautiful face. Her face seemed soft, even gentle as she slept, her long black eyelashes fluttering slightly over closed eyes as she dreamed. She clenched her jaw and released it as she dreamed, and Kale could see that underneath this beautiful exterior was someone in very good shape. If the armor over her form was any indication, she had a tall and slender build, which seemed to suit the way he had seen her fight; the way she moved reminded him of a dancer he had seen in Thorns a few times.

He gently leaned her back up against the tree, and arranged a shade of his blanket to block the light from hitting her face, reasoning that she could use all the sleep she could get. After he had done so, he looked again at Thorns, losing himself in thought somewhat. The thought of "What the hell did I just do?" crossed his mind. At Melia's urging, he had saved her from a certain and painful death at the hands of the Immaculate Order soldiers. On the other hand, this hauntingly beautiful, and peaceful-looking woman had commanded an army of undead...things, and had slain many of the Immaculates herself, with flowing, graceful, and almost sensuous ease. He had watched her spin, duck, weave, slash, and rake through their ranks in an unbroken dance, the very shadows themselves seeming to alternately cloak her, and make her look terrifying in the evening light. If the old adage was true, and that it becomes obvious to an onlooker whenever you engage in doing something you truly love, then she took pride in and loved killing. That sent a cold shiver up his spine.

He pulled out a few strips of dried meat from his satchel and begin eating as he crouched next to the tree, still deep in thought. Melia had essentially asked him to save the life of someone he didn't know; someone who had tried killing him with archers, someone who had slain quite a few people with nearly contemptible ease, barring her little mishap with that giant mace the back of her head had been introduced to. He hoped idly she woke up in a fairly good mood.

About mid-morning, he checked on her again, and adjusted the blanket he was using to block the sun from touching her sleeping figure. The rise and fall of her chest was gentle, slow and regular. Her hand clenched and unclenched slightly against the bone handle of her sword. The realization that her being armed, in an unfamiliar place, near someone she didn't know was probably not a good idea, and decided to check her weapons once more, to see if she could be relieved of them. He didn't want to be on the receiving end of them. By his estimate, he could move roughly as fast as she could, but he'd rather not test the theory unless necessary. There was no sense in tempting fate, he thought.

The scimitar slid out of her relaxed fingers as he gently pulled. He was surprised at the weight of the blade. It was balanced properly, but seemed overly heavy to be truly useful in combat. What puzzled him a bit more was the flowing way he had seen her wield it, which suggested that in her capable hands, it was lighter. He blinked as he made the connection.

She was an Abyssal, Melia had said. That suggested the black metal that comprised her armor and weapons was soulsteel, which also suggested, if his own new weapons were of any hint, that they were attuned to her, just as his sword, bow, and bracer were attuned to him specifically. He remembered just how heavy they had been before he had coaxed them into attuning themselves to him, feeding them little bits of essence until they acquiesced. After they had done so, they seemed just as impossibly light as they had been impossibly heavy just moments before. Since these were her weapons, that suggested that they were indeed preternaturally light, in her hands only.

Even so, he undid the clasps and ties that attached her claw to her left gauntlet as well, removing it and placing it on the ground, next to her scimitar. In the interest of properly treating a weapon, he decided to remove the sheath she had at her left side, custom-made for her sword. After sheathing the heavy sword, he placed both claw and sword in the tree above in such a way that they were unlikely to be dislodged or fall. Part of him felt a little bad at disarming her like this, but on the other hand, facing an armed woman who enjoyed killing as much as she seemed to wasn't something he had planned on doing today.

She seemed to sleep on, oblivious to him relieving her of her weapons. He guessed by the head wound she had in the back of her head, and the healthy bump she had on her crown, she would be sleeping for a while longer as her body healed. He decided that sleeping was a good idea, as he had been up now for over thirty-six hours. He might not need to sleep as much, but he still felt tired, and more than a little mentally and physically exhausted due to the events of the past day and a half. He swiftly and quietly climbed into the upper reaches of the tree, making sure that the trees nearby in this serene cherry-blossom grove were near enough to leap to, if things got ugly. Satisfied that they were, he adjusted his body to a more comfortable position, amongst the branches of the overgrown and wild cherry tree, and closed his eyes as he drifted off to sleep, using his satchel as a pillow against the broad branch of the tree.

When he awoke later, he couldn't at first figure out what had awakened him. He was still a little tired, but awake enough to sharpen his hearing as he tried to find out what was happening. It was late evening now, the sun having set roughly an hour before. Then, he heard it: she was beginning to wake up as well. He carefully and quietly adjusted his position to look down through the maze of branches to where she lay against the tree, down below on the ground. He saw her removing her gauntlets, and begin to gently probe her head for injury with pale-skinned hands. He focused his eyesight more clearly, and saw that her hands had some small scars, and could see callouses on her palms, probably from all the fighting she did. Her fingernails weren't especially long, but they weren't short either; their length ended pretty uniformly slightly beyond her fingertips.

As she was checking herself over for injury, he could see that she was checking out her surroundings as well, looking slightly puzzled at first. He silenced a chuckle. He guessed that she thought she would awaken surrounded by Immaculate guards, and not resting against a tree, with limbs still free. Though as he watched her, she was predictably concerned with her mysterious lack of weaponry.

She tucked her legs close to her body, and rose slowly into a crouch, looking around more closely and thoroughly, even looking up briefly into the tree where he hid silently, though didn't see him. She looked into the other cherry trees in the grove, and around on the plains once more. She seemed satisfied, so looked out to Thorns, in the distance, studying the sight. He couldn't see her expression, though heard her take a deep breath as she looked at the masses of Immaculate troops surrounding Thorns on all sides, their red jade advertising that the wearers had the blood of dragons within their veins. He was momentarily surprised as he looked at Thorns as well, from his perch high up in the tree. It seemed that the mortals, with their more bland steel armor were in rare evidence now; he saw only a few scattered amongst the seething mass of the Dragon-Blooded warriors, and usually performing menial tasks.

He saw as well as heard her rise into a standing position, and began to stretch. He heard several bones and joints popping in her neck, arms, back, and legs as she did so. Kale could have sworn he heard a very faint crooning purr of pleasure from her as she did so.

She turned around, looking into the grove of cherry trees, her eyes flicking in all directions as she studied her surroundings with more scrutiny. He saw that she had cool ice-blue eyes, which oddly enough seemed to fit her perfectly. Her expression was neutral and calm, though she moved with the grace of a natural predator. The way she slowly stalked around the tree as she was studying her surroundings reminded him of watching a mountain lioness searching for prey.

About ten yards from the tree he rested in, she stopped, and spoke in a calm voice that rang with a tone of authority; the voice of one who was used to being obeyed. Her voice had an even cadenced monotone, with a subtle undercurrent of menace. "I know not who you are, but I know that you have my weapons, and I demand their return. Now."


	23. Dusk Greets Night

As she regained consciousness, Rosethorne couldn't figure out at first what had happened. The last thing she remembered was hitting solid rock with sickening force, knocking the wind out of her, and making her see black spots in her vision. She remembered in hazy glimpses of memory being carried over someone's shoulder, but nothing after that.

The day had drawn to a close, though it seemed a bit lighter than she remembered it being. This told her that some time had passed, perhaps a day or so. The cool evening breeze blowing gently, caressing her pale face made her realize that her helmet was off, though the rest of her was still armored. She looked around, and right after she noticed that she was sitting upright, with her armored back against a large tree with small, delicate pink flowers, she realized with a shock that her weapons were gone.

Her eyes narrowed slightly at the realization. Someone had evidently brought her here, and though whoever this person was had made her comfortable, and even put up a blanket to block out the light of the day before, this person had taken her weapons. She felt nearly naked without them, and resisted the urge to look around wildly, as her first impulse told her to do.

Instead, she looked at her helmet, sitting at her side. It had been dented heavily in the back, her eyes picking out marks on the helmet showing which side of the helmet had hit the barely-yielding stone of the canyon wall, with consciousness-stealing force.

She removed her gauntlets almost automatically as she was looking at her helmet, thinking that this was now the second time in her life that she had received a nasty head wound. She began to probe the back of her head, feeling mostly dried and some still slightly sticky blood in the place where the large mace had struck. She felt all around her head for other injuries, and other than feeling a few minor bumps, she was fine. Her body had evidently healed most of the damage as she slept, which pleased her.

She folded her legs close to her chest, as she somewhat unsteadily got to her feet, her reflexes allowing her to do this with grace. She didn't see, smell, or hear anything immediately near her, so relaxed slightly. Whoever this person was hadn't made themselves known yet, so she assumed for the moment that she was alone.

She stretched, feeling the pleasant sensation of her joints stretching into wakefulness. It felt as if she'd been asleep for quite a long time, since there were more popping noises coming from her back and limbs than she expected. However, it made her feel ever so much better. Believing she was, for the moment, alone, she allowed a small croon of pleasure to escape her lips, as the joints in her hands stretched and cracked.

As she did so, she began thinking methodically about her situation now, as she knew it. She didn't know where she was, as this grove of blossoming trees were an unfamiliar sight. Whoever had captured her had done so after she lost consciousness, and had taken her weapons, though allowed her to sleep peacefully and uninterrupted. This person, or persons had also removed her helmet, though whether because it was to help her breathe or because they wanted to look at her face, she didn't have enough evidence to guess. The rest of her armor was untouched, suggesting that whoever did this hadn't tried to remove it. Her arms and legs were unbound and free, which seemed to nearly be a contradiction to the evidence she had so far.

She looked around more thoroughly, scanning her surroundings for more evidence as to what had happened. She looked up into the tree she had been lying against, but saw nothing there. Her ice-blue eyes meticulously scanned the grove of trees, but didn't see anything. Her ears told her nothing as well, the only sounds being her own breathing. She walked around for a bit, checking out her surroundings more thoroughly for any sign of something suspicious. She admitted that this was a bit difficult, as she didn't know what she was looking for.

Her patience began to thin as she walked around the trees for a short distance. She didn't know why, but some instinct told her that whoever did this was still around here, close by. She listened and looked a little more for further evidence to backup her intuition, but found none, and began to grow impatient. She decided to get their attention, and spoke to the night air, making the first move.

"I know not who you are, but I know that you have my weapons, and I demand their return. Now."

She listened and looked around for a reply, but heard none for a few seconds. When she had begun growing used to the idea that there was nobody around, she heard a reply, the voice seemed to echo softly from the trees in front of her.

"I'd rather keep them until I know you're willing to act civilly, but good evening to you as well. Did you have a restful sleep?"

She walked a few steps away from the tree she had been lying against, closer to the other trees in the grove, looking and listening for further sign as to exactly where this hidden voice was speaking from. It was a male voice, speaking with a hint of amusement. She wondered where his friends were.

"I refuse to speak with a disembodied voice. Come down where I can see you."

He heard a chuckle, several trees away from where she last heard the voice, but had heard no sounds of movement. She thought at first that it was one of his friends, until the voice spoke from directly behind her.

"Alright."

She whirled around, and looked at him through narrowed eyes. He was unarmored, and wearing simple, though well-made travelers' clothes, consisting of a long, dark forest green jacket that reached his knees and extended a bit over his wrists, dark brown loose-fitting pants the color of dark, healthy soil, and a shirt of a slightly lighter forest green than his jacket. She noticed leather straps across his shoulders, with the side of a blue jade bow over his left shoulder. Alright, this was one of them, then.

"Where are your friends?"

His right eyebrow quirked upwards a little, before dropping, his face moving into an amused smile. "Oh, knowing how to throw your voice comes in handy sometimes. That was all me."

Her eyes narrowed further at him. Just who did he think was fooling? "You want to speak with me, and yet you lie to me within the first five minutes? For the sake of your continued well-being, consider it a good thing you stole my weapons."

His smile disappeared, a calm look on his face. "I swear on the memory of my parents that the only voice you heard belonged to me, and that you and I are, for the present, alone here, and that I mean you no harm unless you mean to harm me."

Rosethorne studied him more carefully. He, like her, had a slender build, though was slightly taller than she was, but a bare few inches, she guessed. He had dark brown eyes that studied her as she was studying him, his eyes matching the color of his pants, only slightly darker. His light brown hair seemed to be a stranger to a brush, as it stuck out in unruly random angles all over his head. He was somewhat handsome, if a bit rugged looking. The corners of his mouth seemed to be slightly quirked upwards. She finished studying him as her senses told her that he was telling the truth, to the best of his knowledge. He seemed to be waiting for her patiently, and calmly. After making him wait about five minutes to test his patience, and seeing him continue standing still and motionless, she did so.

"Speak, then. Who are you, and what was in it for you to save my life?"

The right corner of his mouth quirked a little more upwards, the beginnings of a smile on his face. "I'll answer you fully, completely and truthfully, if you agree to do the same."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Very well. Answer my questions, and I'll answer yours."

He nodded to her, the quirk on the right side of his mouth disappearing, for the present. "Fair enough. My name is Kale, and you wouldn't believe why I saved you even if I told you. What I can say is that I am no ally of the Immaculates you were fighting before, and given how you tried having me shot earlier, I shouldn't be helping you either. And yet, here I am."

She took a subtle deep breath. She thought he looked a little familiar. This was that snot-nosed whelp who had both shot down many of her would-be ambushing force, and cut half of them down by himself, before getting hit by one of her archer's arrows. She glanced to his left side, where she knew he had been shot, and saw that there wasn't much blood there where the arrow had struck, and no arrow, either.

He had more or less refused to tell her his motivations for saving her life, though claimed to not be allied to the Immaculates. He had volunteered this information either to reassure her, or more likely, to make her believe it. However, he hadn't done anything to overtly reassure or attempt intimidating her yet, so perhaps he was being just as cautious as she. So, that would make it his turn.

"Ask your question, and don't waste my time."

He tilted his head to the side slightly, as if to look at her from a different angle. Unlike most men she'd met however, his gaze remained locked on her eyes. He seemed to reach a decision, and spoke up.

"What is your name, and why were you attacking Thorns?"

She stifled the smile that threatened to steal across her face. This young one knew nothing of what happened, other than the effects. So foolish, and impetuous, especially in asking for her name. Well, that just would have to serve as a reminder to slay him later for knowing her name.

"My name is Rosethorne, Huntress Clad in the Raiment of Shadow. I attacked Thorns because it was my Lord's wish that all life be exsanguinated within and without the town."

She saw with a small sense of satisfaction that his eyebrows quirked upward slightly as he heard her full name being spoken. Why was she feeling so calm around this strange man, who evidently had never seen or heard of a hairbrush? His reply, however, instantly put her on her guard.

"So you work for the Mask of Winters, then?"

The look on his face as he asked reminded her of a shadow passing over his face, the way his expression darkened. He evidently had a personal problem with her Lord, but what was of more concern was that he knew her Lord's name, which to her knowledge was unknown on the surface lands. She narrowed her eyes at him once more, her body tense and yet relaxed, ready to fight.

"How did you know his name? Speak!"

The essence she channeled into her words was part of a rote she used to quell rebellion and force her soldiers to look up to her. On this man, it was to compel his obedience, though his expression and body language didn't change. She saw his eyebrow quirk upwards slightly, though he answered anyway.

"How I know his name and why I rescued you stem from the same cause, and you wouldn't believe it," he answered flatly, as if expecting her to let the matter drop. However, he was sorely mistaken if he believed that. She willed herself to keep her temper and not dismember him where he stood, perhaps beating him into unconsciousness with one of his own limbs once she was done.

"If you expect me to give you complete answers, you must do the same. Angering me would be unhealthy, he who calls himself Kale."

His eyebrow quirked a little higher with that remark, though his facial expression didn't change much; evidently, he was guarding his emotions just as she was.

"I'll tell you if you answer one more question. Are you an Abyssal?"

Oh, he had some nerve, and some knowledge as well. She began to suspect, given his evident knowledge in addition to other things she knew about him already, such as an arrow in his side healing completely and without permanent injury, that he was not a mere mortal.

"Clarify your rather vague earlier statements of the parts you don't think I'll believe, and I'll consider telling you," she told him flatly.

He shrugged as he looked at her. "From the way you didn't look surprised that I knew of your kind, but rather surprised that I was able to spot you as one, that's all the answer I wanted. However, I will clarify for you."

He stepped back a pace, which she reacted to by taking one step back and facing him sideways in the Owl Spots Prey stance, but the only thing he did was look at her softly. A golden circle appeared on his forehead, and glowed softly for a few moments, before disappearing just as quietly as it had appeared. "First off, I'm a Child of the Sun."

She studied his mark before it disappeared, with no evidence remaining that it had shone just a few moments before. It was of the same shape as she had seen on the Day Caste Deathknight, Noro, though this man's Mark didn't blacken and bleed upon his forehead. Given the evidence, he must be of the Night Caste, the Solar opposite of Noro. However, that didn't explain why he rescued her, and didn't explain how he knew her Lord's name. It did explain why he attacked her troops, however.

She decided to match him, the skin on her forehead blackening as if burnt in the form of a circle with twelve equally black and burnt-looking spokes surrounding it evenly. She felt the shadows around her begin to notice her silent command, and began lengthening and darkening around her form as she gazed into his eyes. She smiled inwardly. "You didn't answer my question, Child of the Sun."

She saw him roll his eyes and shake his head slightly, though he appeared unimpressed by her mark or the shadows around her. "I hate being called that," he replied with a slight frown, as he began walking toward the other trees. She was about to shout out a command to stay where he was, when she saw that he was merely finding a comfortable place to pace back and forth. His reaction told her that he wasn't used to being what he was yet. He was essentially a newborn Exalt, and that would make her job immeasurably easier. However, given his reactions to her so far, he wasn't intimidated by her. Well, she would see what his reaction was once she had her weapons back.

He stopped pacing, and faced her once more, and looked as if he were about to speak, when he turned his head swiftly to the side, as if seeing into the distance, a look of concentration on his face. She was about to ask him what he had seen or heard, when she heard armor-clad footsteps coming toward the grove of blossoming trees. Her estimate from the sound was that it was a small patrol, perhaps four or five soldiers strong. Excellent, she could do with a little exercise, and something to quell her hunger as well.

He spoke up to confirm her suspicions without turning away from the noise. "I'll have to tell you later. It looks like we're about to have company. Five Dragon-Blooded, full armor, in standard infantry armament are coming this way." He turned to look at her. "We have enough time to conceal our presences from their notice."

She raised an eyebrow of her own as she looked at him. "If you mean to conceal your fear and intent to run with flowery words, you're a coward. Let them come." She looked in the direction they were coming from seeing the slightly surprised and amused look on his face, and licked her lips as she felt her canine teeth growing, sharpening, and lengthening. "I require sustenance."


	24. Lifeblood and Enmity

Kale had to hide a laugh. This woman was nuts. He watched her, as she stalked back to the tree she had been sleeping under, not averting her eyes to where the Immaculate soldiers would emerge, and began to put her gauntlets back on. She left her helmet lay where it was, however.

She walked back to her original position, her eyes not leaving the direction that the Immaculate soldiers would emerge from.

Was it his imagination, or did her canine teeth get longer as she was making her announcement about "requiring sustenance?" Though there was no real expression of emotion on her face, her body language spoke volumes. She most certainly wasn't planning on running. He saw her now-mailed hands clench and unclench slowly once at her sides, from the anticipation, he supposed.

She certainly wasn't acting the way he normally would expect someone who had no weapons to act toward the impending arrival of five Immaculate soldiers, who were probably quite edgy from doing a patrol this time of night.

As Kale looked in the same direction, he decided not to draw his sword or nock an arrow to the bow over his shoulder. If things went bad, he'd do so then, but he decided not to invite trouble quite yet. He just hoped none of them recognized the clothes he wore from yesterday, when he had helped their back line against this woman's ambush. For which he received not even a shred of thanks: if anything, he felt insulted by their uniformly hateful response, and began to understand Melia's sense of pure irritation at them.

The soldiers crested the hill leading up to the overgrown cherry tree grove, moving at a brisk marching pace. He glanced briefly sidelong at the Abyssal, who hadn't moved from her position, remaining as still as a statue. There was no expression on her face, though her eyebrows were slightly narrowed, her gauntleted hands still hanging loosely at her sides. He just hoped this woman didn't try doing anything rash. Just to help matters, he closed his eyes as he channeled the essence within him in a rote Melia had taught him. It was supposed to create an air of "normality" around him, making anything he or anyone he focused it on, like Rosethorne, appear much less suspicious. He figured it couldn't hurt.

The soldiers spotted them and came to a halt about ten yards from them. Without an order being spoken, they began to fan out around the pair, but hadn't drawn their weapons yet. The one in the middle hailed them. "What are you doing around this area, at this time of night? State your business!"

Kale saw the woman's body tense and relax at the words from the soldier who appeared to be in change. He decided to act now, before she did, as he knew what her course of action would most likely be. "Good evening! My lady friend and I were attempting to speak uninterrupted. Why, is something wrong?"

Out of the corner of his left eye, he saw her turn her head toward him slowly, and fix him with a blank look. He pretended not to notice for the moment.

The soldier was peering intently at both of them before giving a reply. "That lady there looks awful familiar. Where've you been all day, madam?"

Kale spoke up again, earning another look from his companion. Her expression remained that of a statue as she looked at him, but he could tell that this was by no means how she was expecting this to happen. "She's been sleeping near me all day. Is there a problem?"

The soldier nodded, looking at each of them in turn, from Kale's expression of slightly insulted gentleman's calm, and hers of expressionless, though tangible irritation. "Well, be careful, then. There might be an escaped Anathema or two near here. Don't mean to alarm you two, especially this time of night, but they tried unsuccessfully to attack a full Talon of soldiers from the Immaculate Order. We chased them off, though they may try taking their revenge against innocent bystanders like yourselves."

Kale groaned inwardly as he saw a very brief flicker of irritation cross her normally expressionless face out of the corner of his eye. He did his best to keep calm as he heard her speak up, in a low, clipped monotone that nonetheless carried clearly to everyone nearby. "That's not what happened."

The soldier looked at her, at first a little surprised, but then suspicious. "Do you question the word of the Dragon-Touched?"

Kale saw that she looked utterly relaxed, for once. Somehow, he didn't think this meant that she intended to be reasonable. She spoke up again, in the same voice, this time with a hint of menace behind her words. "I do when they lie to preserve their precious self-perception."

The soldier looked shocked again, and then slightly annoyed. "Corporal Kamir, Corporal Isec, bind her limbs, and bring her back for questioning."

Kale saw her hands clench and unclench slowly, her expression unchanged. "Touch me, and forfeit your life."

Oh, hell. What was she trying to do, pick a fight with them? With a sinking feeling, he knew that she was. On the other hand, she did keep silent until the soldier in charge started spewing propaganda. He guessed that she considered those comments a slight upon her honor, though he'd have to watch her further to see if she indeed had any sense of honor.

He saw the head soldier nod to the two men, who walked forward purposefully, with blades drawn. "Come quietly lady, and there won't be any trouble."

She simply eyed them without moving. One of them stayed within a yard of her, blade drawn; the other reached out to grab her left wrist with his right hand, his left still holding his sword. The instant his hand touched her wrist, she exploded into motion. Her hand moved from beneath his to clasp his wrist and twist his arm painfully, right before she spun through his guard and elbowed him across the face with her other mailed arm.

The other guard began moving toward her as he saw this. In the space of what seemed to be the blink of an eye, her left hand grabbed Corporal Isec's wrist that held his sword tightly and twisted it back, followed swiftly by another elbow in the face with her other arm. Continuing this motion, she brought her arm down and elbowed the top of his shoulder as well, forcing him to momentarily lose his hold on his blade.

His blade dropped a bare inch before it fell into the outstretched palm of her left hand, which tightly grabbed the hilt of the sword. She brought it back, and slashed through his neck, his helmeted head falling to the ground.

The other soldier slashed down at her, trying to hit her where her neck met the breastplate of her armor. She was following through with her earlier momentum, stepped lightly to the side while bringing her stolen blade behind his, forcing it to the ground. She spun around and kicked him in the back of the head, and continuing this spinning motion, beheaded him as well, grabbing his blade with her other hand before it fell from his lifeless fingers.

She eyed the rest of them for a moment, and licked the blood carefully from each side of each blade she had taken from their compatriots.

Kale was attempting to not look at her with utter shock. He could tell the blades were heavy for her, as they were the special jade swords forged specifically for these Immaculate troops. Being that these swords were unattuned to her, they were heavier in her hands, though they certainly didn't seem to be slowing her down much.

The lead soldier shook off his utter surprise, and yelled out his orders. "Slay her! She dares to strike the sacred flesh of the Dragon-Touched!"

All of them noticed the night growing steadily darker around them, until it was a nearly impenetrable gloom. Her voice seemed to echo from within the darkness, with the same even-cadenced monotone as before. "Pray to whomever you worship for wisdom in your next lifetime."

Kale could see in the darkness, one of the tricks of essence Melia taught him serving him well in this moment. His eyes peered through the gloom, and saw her facing the three soldiers, who were wildly looking around them, unsure of what to do. They walked until they were all three facing back to back from a distance of about a yard apart, their animas flaring into view, trying vainly to light up the preternatural darkness that seemed to nearly suffocate them. He could swear he saw a bare hint of a wintry smile on her face as she looked at them. And her eyes...

Her eyes were no longer her usual ice-blue. They were glowing now, her irises moving, swirling, seeming to boil as they shone softly. He decided to stay right where he was, let her finish, and then ask her what she thought she was doing.

She moved around them silently, stopping before the soldier who appeared to be in charge. "You were the one who insulted my honor, so you shall take the longest in greeting death."

At her words, he stiffened, his anima brightening as he tried to see into the gloom all around him and failing. She lashed out with two swift and savage strikes, one severing the chain holding up his codpiece, the second disemboweling him. He collapsed to the ground, moaning in pain.

She then spoke to the two still standing, one of which was shaking slightly. "Attack me now, and receive a soldier's death."

One of them seemed to take a deep breath, his Wood-Aspected swirling green anima brightening in vain to help him see more clearly. He yelled wildly, and ran at where he last heard her voice. She simply waited for him to pass her in the gloom, and beheaded him as he went by.

She turned her attention on the last soldier standing, who was shaking slightly. She dropped her stolen weapons as she moved over to see his face properly. She walked up to him with long strides, embraced him tightly, and bit into his neck.

Kale didn't hide the look of disgust on his face, as he heard the soldier's gurgling pleas and her quiet slurping noises. He dropped in a heap at her feet when she was done, and she beheaded him with his own weapon at the place on his neck where her fangs had marked him. She then turned her attention on the still moaning soldier on the ground, before yanking him unceremoniously to his feet, and sinking her fangs into his neck as well.

The gloom began to lift as she dropped him onto his knees. He swayed slightly from so much blood loss, his skin nearly as pale as hers. She crouched down to face him once more. "I have seen you fit to be my prey, and my prey you have become."

She beheaded him in the same way as she had the last soldier, in the same place on his neck. She dropped his sword, and took off her left gauntlet, holding it in the crook of her armpit. She turned to face Kale, delicately wiping the remaining traces of blood from her face with her now unmailed hand. "Now, as you were saying, before we were so rudely interrupted?"

Kale couldn't help but ask. "Why do you leave them all their weapons?"

She quirked an eyebrow at him as she delicately wiped a small blot of blood from her nose. "Because when those soldiers don't report back, a much larger patrol will be along to check on them. Leaving them how they are will confuse those who would find this scene in the morning."

He blinked. He was fully expecting her to gloat about how she had weapons now, but had nonchalantly left them behind. He shrugged, and walked over to each soldier in turn, clasping their swords in the owners' proper hands. He stood up and dusted off his hands, surveying his work, before turning back to face her once more. "That was disgusting, you know. Can't you eat normal food?"

She arched her eyebrow at him again slightly. "If you consider my feeding to be disgusting, then don't torture yourself by watching."

Oh, being catty, was she? He crossed his arms as he looked her in the eyes. "I'll grant you that - it was almost torture to see you get introduced to the wrong ends of both mace and canyon wall."

She narrowed her eyes at him before walking over to two soldiers, and relieving them of their blades once again before facing Kale once more. "You pick on the weakest parts of my army, get shot by a skeleton archer that cannot aim more specifically than general targets, and now you seek to give me pointers on fighting?"

She began walking toward him, coming to a stop and flowing into a combat stance about three yards away from where he stood. "Then by all means, come try to fell me!"

He looked at her. He knew that her strikes were not up to her usual speed, due to the heavy weapons in her hands not being attuned to her - were they attuned, they'd be as light as wooden dowels in her hands. He shrugged, and pulled his blade from its sheath, and resting it on his shoulder. "Alright, but you asked for it."

She merely stared at him, unmoving, giving no answer.

He moved his right foot back, putting his left side toward her calmly, but warily. He had now seen up close just how fast and how brutally strong this woman was. As fast as he knew he was, even with that strange gem in his bracer that seemed to make his movements twice as fast, he didn't know how this would end up.

They stood in silence, facing one another, waiting - daring, even - for the other to make the first move. Kale was staring her directly in the eyes, just as she was meeting his gaze, unblinking. Five minutes passed before one of them made a movement.

Rosethorne lunged at him like a hungry wolf. Kale seemed to melt out of the way like a shadow, darting behind her, swinging his sword with the unsharpened edge at the backs of her knees. She fell heavily on her back, unable to right herself in time.

He smiled as he took a step back. "You fell."

She leapt to her feet, glaring at him. He saw her eyes once again begin shining with luminescence, the irises of her eyes beginning once again to churn and swirl. Her Caste Mark appeared on her forehead as if someone had burned it there, and sheets of blue fire began to dance with the now animated shadows around her. The blades in her hands began to glow briefly with a bluish grey before fading away once more. He knew she had just attuned the weapons to herself. The Abyssal's voice seemed to echo, with a strong undercurrent of pure malice behind her usual toneless cadence. "You struck me like a coward, and now you shall pay the price."

That look in her eyes didn't look encouraging at all. Kale decided that right now, discretion was the better part of valor, and took off running, sheathing his sword as he ran. He heard the light footsteps behind him, telling him that she was in hot pursuit. He ran beyond the edges of the grove, seeing a small forest with some old and very tall trees ahead. He sprinted toward one, and nearly ran up the side of the tree into the canopy above, the branches now hiding him from view. He saw her stop at the foot of the tree and look up a bare second after he had gained his perch, her eyes still glowing and churning eerily. "Don't think you can escape me after that sort of an insult."

Kale grinned at her through the branches. "You told me to make you fall, and you fell. I'm failing to see the problem."

She glared at him a bit more now. "Nothing prevents me from chasing you up that tree and slaying you."

He nocked an arrow, still smirking. "Yeah, nothing except maybe an arrow in your eye."

The corners of her mouth rose upward slightly as she gazed at where his voice was coming from, and sat down cross-legged without averting her gaze in the least. "Then I'll simply wait for you to come down. You can't stay up there forever."

Unbeknownst to her, he had shouldered his bow and begun climbing upwards already, before leaping lightly to the tree a few yards away, landing on the branch with the barest whisper of movement. He threw his voice to appear as if it were coming from the tree's branches he'd so recently vacated. "You sure about that? I was raised in a forest, you know."

She continued gazing upward into the tree he'd left. "I can wait an eternity, Kale."

He chuckled quietly to himself, his eyes scanning the ground below him without even thinking about it now. He saw the brightening on the Eastern horizon, foretelling the sun's coming soon. He saw movement, and looked sharply at it, seeing at least sixty red jade armored Immaculate Order soldiers marching toward the grove.

He didn't throw his voice this time, but spoke to her in a low, urgent voice. "Rosethorne, you might want to consider giving those weapons back to their owners, and climbing up that tree."

He saw the corners of her mouth move upwards slightly again, in a hint of a smile. "So anxious to face me without weapons?"

She's witty, he had to give her that. "No, but it looks like that patrol you talked about is arriving a bit earlier than you previously thought."

She glared in the direction she now heard his voice coming from. "If you're lying about this, I'm going to consider you my prey."

He rolled his eyes briefly in annoyance. "Great. Put the weapons back, find a tree to climb, and then see if I'm a liar."

With one last baleful glance, she darted back to the bodies of the Dragon-Blooded soldiers, now beginning to attract flies. She closed her eyes as she released her essence from the weapons, and then placed them back into the hands of their former owners. Satisfied, she darted back to the tree Kale had first climbed, and began moving up the tree with difficulty. It took her a few minutes to get to a proper height, which made Kale rather impatient, though he didn't say anything.

He saw her through the branches climbing up to a more or less serviceable perch, and peer down below, in the distance, seeing the force marching in three perfect red jade lines up into the grove. She turned in the direction she had last heard his voice, seeing him almost completely hidden in the shadows of the tree. "Don't think for a moment that I've forgotten your insult."

He looked at the approaching force below. "Fine. After they leave, we'll have another talk."


	25. Two Pasts Haunt the Huntress

The Immaculate troops made the ground shudder as they marched in unison up the slightly narrow path to the grove. All the soldiers were looking wary, on the lookout for anything suspicious. There was not a single ordinary mortal among them, as they had to expect the worst. All their animas were fully active, forcing them to march a few feet apart from one another. The three marching lines illuminated the still-dark land around them in a riot of color; green the color of leaves mixing with sky blue, the reddish-orange of hungry flames, earthy brown, and flowing water-like blue.

Rosethorne watched the procession with a detached air. Her hands clenched as she clung to the tree, her armored fingers digging into the bark audibly, earning her a glare from the Solar one tree over from her. The questions of why he had saved her life, and was helping her now remained unanswered. However, her own honor would not allow her to give in and slay him; not before she repaid the life debt she owed him. She had mixed feelings about this. Rosethorne felt a seething cold anger at being indebted to another for her life, as he had prevented her from having a true warrior's fate on the battlefield. Not only that, but his interference on the battlefield two days ago had cut down her ambushing force; had that force been allowed to attack the Immaculate army as she had planned, then she could have had the numbers to rout the second army, and report back to her Lord, victorious. That Solar's meddling had cost her greatly: she had lost her command, had possibly cost Rosethorne her position as General of the Mask's armies, and to cap it all off, she owed him her life.

Her fingers relaxed as she thought further, still automatically watching the Immaculate guard marching as she lost herself in thought. On the other hand, he had extended kindness to someone who by rights was his enemy, three times now. He had saved her life in the canyon, he had tried to talk the Immaculate soldiers out of getting suspicious, and he had shown her a place to hide properly when this larger force came looking for the first.

Rosethorne smiled. She would have let that first group go unharmed, if it weren't for the absurd way their leader had tried to paint her with words. She was a taker of many lives; a scourge borne of Oblivion, a harbringer of the Abyss within a living being - all these things were true. However, she also had a strong code of honor she abided by, and she would never suffer a fool gladly who tried to stain her honor, whether it be through an insulting remark or act.

Her senses of honor and purpose had kept her focused on each and every goal she had been turned toward by her Lord with unwavering attention, not allowing her own feelings to ever cloud her decisions. She wore her honor like a second suit of armor, preventing her feelings from ever escaping the dark recesses of her mind, and preventing others from seeing any potential weaknesses in her.

She shook her head slightly to bring herself out of her reverie, seeing that the Immaculates had reached the grove below. They fanned out as soldiers should, surrounding the scene. She smiled at their confusion. She had to admit, that Solar in the tree next to her was a good trickster - his idea of leaving all their weapons in their hands befuddled the Immaculate patrol to no end. It annoyed her slightly to still be unarmed, however, that would be taken care of in time. Just because she owed Kale her life didn't mean that she couldn't beat him into unconsciousness with her bare hands, if needs be, and take her weapons back.

She listened to the conversations starting down below, amused by their confusion.

One of the soldiers, wearing blue jade armor and a large sheathed blue jade sword inspected the area, before barking an order at the soldier next to him. "Report!"

The young man saluted, clicking his heels together smartly as he did so. "Sir, We found all five of the patrol, sir. All five had been beheaded, one was disemboweled before he was beheaded. Three of the five had puncture wounds on their necks. All five were found with their weapons in hand. We also found a single black helmet with a large dent in the back by the tree to the North."

Rosethorne winced. She cursed herself for leaving her helmet behind.

The soldier in charge motioned him to continue, somewhat impatiently. "And what sign of struggle, Corporal?"

The younger soldier continued his report, standing ramrod straight. "Sir, whatever happened, happened very quickly. The two with no puncture wounds walked toward the tree where we found the black helmet, and were beheaded there. There was little sign of a struggle. We found a few more footsteps around the other three, suggesting they had been rounded up back to back at first, before being slain and punctured."

The one in charge nodded. He looked again at the young soldier still saluting him. "Good work. Any ideas as to the construction of the helmet?"

"Yes sir, given the metal and its properties, it appears to be made of soulsteel."

Rosethorne closed her eyes and shook her head. Despite that annoying Solar's bright ideas, this one would fall flat, and they would be discovered. She was sorely tempted to save them the trouble and greet her own fate now, but decided not to.

The soldier in charge began pacing the area, looking for himself. He barked to the young soldier following him obediently. "Anything else you found, soldier?"

The younger soldier saluted again, smartly. "Yes sir, we found traces of a strange dust near the helmet, making a rough approximation of a man-sized creature."

Rosethorne glanced swiftly over to where she could still barely see Kale, in the tree next to her. He turned his attention away from the troops for a moment to look back. He smiled at her, winked, and looked back at the scene below.

The one in charge raised an eyebrow before barking at his subordinate. "Is that all?"

The young soldier saluted once more. "Sir, yes sir."

The Immaculate in charge hailed another soldier, barking another order. "Lieutenant, what's your analysis?"

The soldier hailed stood, and faced his commanding officer, saluting smartly. "Sir, my guess is that our soldiers defeated whatever it was, though they all gave their lives valiantly to contain such an evil."

Rosethorne could barely hear the valiantly-concealed laughter coming from the tree next to her. She glared at him, and he grinned back at her, unrepentant. Utterly undisciplined, he was.

The blue jade armored soldier roared out orders for all his contingent. "Collect the bodies and all their belongings, along with the helmet of the spirit who was defeated by the might of those with Dragons' Blood roaring in their veins! We will give them a proper heroes' burial at camp. Move!"

With that, the soldiers efficiently made stretchers for their fallen compatriots, collected all the evidence of the battle, and began to march down the path, toward their camp down below. The sun began to appear on the Eastern horizon.

Rosethorne and her strange companion both waited at least fifteen minutes, for the Immaculate soldiers to be completely out of earshot. Once they were, the first noise she heard was Kale finally giving voice to the laughter he'd been holding in for so long. She unsteadily began climbing down, ignoring him. She grew impatient, and simply leapt from the tree branches above, landing on all fours to absorb the shock properly. She looked to the tree next to her, and saw Kale leaning against it, still chuckling slightly. She fixed him with a wintry glare, which seemed to have no effect whatsoever on his exhuberance. "Proud of yourself, are you?"

He grinned unrepentantly at her. "Oh, yes indeed I am. I think we both know that if they found nothing to blame their friends' deaths on, they'd still be looking here. I gave them something to blame their deaths on, and off they went."

She didn't think she could take being in proximity to him much longer. She had to admit to herself that he was right, and...to a small degree, the idea was amusing. However, he was also an undisciplined, irritating, cowardly do-gooder. "Was it worth the price of my helmet, Solar?"

He shrugged. "You left it behind, and I thought it would be perfect for the purpose."

Rosethorne shook her head. She didn't have a proper answer to that. She idly began to feel the back of her head again with her right hand, wondering just how much that wound had cost her. She felt that a large scab had formed, and was already beginning to shrink in size, owing to her accelerated healing.

"Hey, if it makes you feel any better, you're probably better off here without your armor."

She whirled around to face him with an icy glare. "And why is that?"

He shrugged. "The Dragon-Blooded are probably on the lookout for anyone in black armor now, since they don't know what happened to you during the battle."

She shook her head, and focused her attention on the sunrise. It had been many, many years since she had seen one. It made her feel...unexpectedly peaceful. Even as the peace began to steal quietly into her thoughts, giving her a sense of calm once more, she couldn't help but wonder once more. "Why are you helping me? Why are you going through trouble to help someone who tried to have you killed?"

Something told her that even though she couldn't see him, he shrugged again. "I have my reasons."

Rosethorne took a deep breath, still staring at the emerging sun. "I will discover your reasons sooner or later, Solar."

She heard quiet laughter from the direction she knew he was still standing. Well, guessed he was standing anyway, that little sneak evidently had a talent for throwing his voice. "Only if I actually tell you, and that's not going to happen. Not for a very long time."

She heard the muffled noises of someone stretching, and heard him speak up again. "I know that we both don't need as much sleep as we once did, but I'm tired, personally. I'm going to go get some rest."

She was no longer surprised that she heard no noise as he found a proper place to sleep. Knowing him and his tendency to play at being a monkey, that resting place was likely in a tree. She sighed, and sat down crosslegged on the ground, still beholding the morning sun's brilliant rays, beginning to lose herself in thought once more.

Why had the accursed Essence within her been so quiet, ever since she had reached the surface? She didn't notice it at first, but it made her suspicious. After all, there was a Solar nearby, why had the insane Essence within her not even spoken up once about slaying him? She felt uncomfortable as she began to examine her own feelings, being nearly alien to her now, having lived for so long without acknowledging them. She knew intellectually that five years wasn't a very long time, but much had happened in those five years. And why did she feel a sneaking sense of...peace around that annoying, scruffy Solar?

Rosethorne took a deep breath to clear her mind. It wasn't good to dwell on such things, as emotions were a mark of the living. Even with that statement she had repeated to herself so often over the years to keep her emotions well-hidden even to herself, she couldn't help but think of that wraith she had taken that mirror from. He said many cryptic things to her that she had dismissed as insane ramblings of one trapped in the lands of the dead for over a thousand years. One of the things he had said stuck out in her mind now, though. When he was describing "true life" and "Oblivion-sustained life," the words he used deliberately implied that though she was an Abyssal, she was still alive, and by extension, human still, with all the frailties and weaknesses that humans have.

That thought made her shudder. She decided to end this journey of thoughts, as she was quite uncomfortable with where they seemed to be leading. She decided to rest now, to sleep away this accursed brightness the sun brought. She climbed inexpertly into the tree she had hidden within earlier, and found a place that would serve as a decent enough place to rest, and closed her eyes, welcoming the darkness of sleep.

Many strange, disconnected images and scenes played out in her mind as she dreamed, unable to make sense of them. They seemed to bear no relation to one another, but ensnared her in their embrace anyway. After a time of this, she heard his voice once again; the voice she had been alternately dreading and waiting for. He seemed to be more insane than usual.

_"I left her behind...I should have stayed strong..."_

She felt that she should speak, in these dreams. "Who did you leave behind?"

_"Her...My one..."_

She began to get slightly annoyed. "Who is this her you keep mentioning?"

_"I'm glad we're on the surface now, so I don't have to hear the accursed whispers of that desiccated lump of flesh worming into my mind. It can't seem to reach me here...but that means I'm lost in my memories..."_

Rosethorne was growing increasingly annoyed at his non-sequitur. "Since you're not hearing voices right now, would you mind explaining your prattling?"

She heard a deep, rumbling chuckle, in the shadows of her dream. _"You can't go back, you know. They hunt you, even now."_

Even in dreams, a deep breath managed to help her retain her calm. "So now I'm a rogue, is that it?"

_"You know just as well as I that due to what happened, you've already lost your position as general of the Mask's armies. Your life is forfeit, now."_

She thought that over. She was half-surprised to realize that however insane he was, he was also right in this regard. She fell in battle and failed in her appointed task, which was a crime of failure to her Lord. She hadn't accepted death on the battlefield for falling as she did, which was a crime of cowardice, despite the circumstances. She was also now, however briefly, keeping company with a Solar, which was a crime of fraternization with the living, and a serious one.

_"Yes, you see now. They will come for you, as you disrupt the flow of the Mask's plans by existing at this moment."_

"So, what then? Do I just allow myself to fall when they do, and give myself a true soldier's death?" She was half surprised, actually. He was actually talking sense, for once.

_"That's your choice. For a small glimmer of hope I still hold onto, I suggest you stay alive. If you die, then at least I'll finally have peace, but you'll be hearing the Malfean's whispers until you're able to sleep. I'd far rather I deal with it than you."_

"And why, exactly, are you being so self-sacrificing?" This was certainly getting interesting.

_"To...to show her that I'm trying to atone for my weakness. I'm staying strong now to try making up for what I've done."_

That irritated her. He seemed to give no more than vague hints. "You and that Solar are a lot alike. Neither of you say what you mean, obfuscating it behind vague hints and misleading words."

She felt a glimmer of a smile from him, like white teeth in the darkness.

"And what is this glimmer of hope you hang onto? Hope is for the living."

_"Aye, it is."_

She woke up abruptly, her jaw clenching in irritation. She wiped the sleep from her eyes as she surveyed the place around her now. It was now late evening, her nose detecting roasting meat and a fire nearby. She stretched slightly, the underpadding of her armor beginning to feel a little sweaty. She climbed down, and saw Kale roasting some small animal over a fire. "Why don't you eat it raw?"

He didn't look up from what he was doing. "Why don't you eat at all?"

Her eyes narrowed. One thing she despised about this man was that he seemed to be quicker-witted than she. Marginally. She sat near the fire, feeling the heat begin to steal into her skin through her armor. She just sat there, gazing into the flames.

She shook herself after a time to discover that Kale was no longer sitting there, but rather standing a ways off, looking into the valley below, and toward Thorns. She exhaled a bit more forcefully than necessary. Was she so abhorrent? She decided to get up and see what he was looking at. She walked softly through the grass, stopping at his side.

He pointed out with his finger toward something in the valley below. "Friend of yours?"

She noticed that his voice had no hint of amusement this time. She squinted into the darkness, and could see a small moving figure, but couldn't make out any details. "What is it?"

He continued looking for a moment before answering, all traces of a smile absent from his face. "Whoever it is, it looks almost exactly what you looked like two days ago. Black armor, and riding a headless horse."

"Warstrider," she corrected him automatically.

"Whatever. Whoever it is, they're headed this way, and in a hurry." He continued gazing at the figure, hawk-like.

She inhaled slowly, clenching and unclenching her hands at her sides. "It's another Deathknight. Whoever's riding the warstrider is after me, and me alone."

He looked at her solemnly. "I take it your former boss is angry at you for not dying?"

She nodded, not looking away from the figure, slowly growing larger as it moved swiftly toward them. "Among other things."

He looked back at the figure, taking a deep breath of his own. "I see."

She saw him calmly take the bow from over his shoulder, nock an arrow, and aim at the approaching rider. She reached out, and moved the arrow down, not moving her eyes from the incoming Deathknight. "No. I must face him alone."

He shrugged, and put the bow back over his shoulder, placing the arrow back into his quiver. "Very well. But do me a favor, and check the ground around you before he gets here."

She narrowed her eyes, and turned to look askance at him, but he had already gone. She moved her gaze downwards, and saw her sheathed scimitar and claw lying neatly at her feet. A small smile began to disturb her normally stone-like features as she crouched down, and began to arm herself.


	26. Night Watches Dusk Face Dusk

It was strange, Kale thought. That Abyssal, Rosethorne, was watching the approaching rider completely alone, at her request. She was standing perfectly still, her scimitar still sheathed at her side, her clawed left arm hanging calmly, and her right hanging also, with palm relaxed. Ever since he'd met this strange woman though, he'd learned to notice the little things - like the shadows below beginning to move on their own in random patterns. The patterns didn't suggest nervousness, which surprised him. They seemed to suggest anticipation, as if the shadows below expressed her emotions, though she herself didn't.

He still wondered why he was still helping her. He'd saved her life, and given back her weapons. Sure, she mentioned that she owed him a debt of her life, but that didn't mean he couldn't just leave now. Something was compelling him to stay here though, and he suspected it was Melia's encouragement.

Sure, that woman certainly wasn't hard on the eyes, but knowing that she was that good at killing gave him the chills. Seeing her dispatch five Immaculate soldiers with frightening ease was more than a little intimidating, but there seemed to be something else there. She toyed with them slightly, taking her time. He had noticed her eyes flick swiftly toward him once or twice while she slew them, which suggested that she was doing it to intimidate him. Well, it had worked, though he couldn't help but watch, mesmerized, at the graceful and efficient way in which she had done so. On the bright side, at least she enjoyed her hobby.

He pulled out an apple, and sliced it with the knife in his boot. As he finished, he saw someone skulking through the darkness on the other side of the grove. He refocused his eyes, and saw that it was a slim, tall man with very pale skin, and short, shock white hair that stood straight up. Great, another Abyssal. He pulled the bow from his shoulder and nocked an arrow, leaving both lay on his lap. Who knows, perhaps it was someone just watching, as he was. Kale smirked. The guy skulking down below hadn't really searched the area around him too thoroughly, as if not expecting anything out of the ordinary. Kale decided to relax and eat the rest of his apple, though he'd be keeping an eye on the stealthy guy down below.

Kale frowned as he munched quietly on a piece of apple. That guy sneaking around had so obviously never been in the woodlands much. He was doing a splendid job of walking and staying silent, but he never seemed to look up much, as if used to everything being on eye level or below. Kale shook his head. He was somewhat tempted to shoot an arrow into the tree trunk right above that guy's head just to teach him to look up every once in a while, but decided not to. The guy hadn't done anything overtly aggressive; he just seemed to find a comfortable and relatively hidden spot from which to watch the impending fight, just as Kale himself was.

The hoofbeats grew loud enough for Kale to not have to use his essence to enhance his hearing. The rider approached, hoofbeats growing louder and louder, as the rider finally appeared on the path to the grove. He stopped his...horse-like thing, and just stood immobile, looking at Rosethorne. Kale rolled his eyes. Warstrider, right.

The shadows below had stopped moving. The guy with the short white hair down below was sitting immobile. The very air around the grove seemed to stand still, as if holding its breath. Neither Rosethorne, nor the rider moved at all for about five minutes. They had just stared at each other, immobile.

Just as Kale's patience began to run out, the rider hopped out of...wow, that was creepy. The rider hopped out of the opening on the warstrider where the horse's head should be, and walked to exactly ten yards away from Rosethorne, who still hadn't moved in the slightest. The rider's face was visible from behind the bars of the helmet, and its skin looked drawn, and stretched tightly over the bones of the person's face. The rider carried a large, long sword with a serrated edge in one hand, and a large shield with the motif of a mask in the other. The figure seemed to be smiling.

The rider spoke finally, with a loud, clear, and slightly mocking tone. "Greetings, former general. Are you ready to finally experience the sweet Death you've given to so many others over the years?"

Ah, so it was a male who was now challenging her. The rider moved his sword to sit atop his shoulder now, in readiness for the battle ahead.

Rosethorne's voice seemed to start softly, though began echoing around her more loudly. "I've been ready for death ever since I first gave it to someone else."

The figure seemed to smile more widely, as if pleased. "Excellent. The Mask decrees that your sentence is death by my hand. Are you ready to greet the fate of a failure?"

Kale saw Rosethorne's eyes narrow slightly at the rider. "Come, then. Let's see if you're qualified."

The rider laughed a wheezing, strange laugh, and pressed his sword to the forehead of his helmet in salute. Kale saw Rosethorne unsheathe her scimitar, and do the same. Both simultaneously dropped their weapons to a ready stance, and began circling one another slowly.

The rider spoke once more in a mocking, derisive tone. "What happened to your helmet, Rosethorne? Are you inviting me to take your head?"

Her eyes began to glow, her irises beginning to churn and whirl, as the very shadows began to surround her. Sheets of ghostly blue flames began moving in a macabre dance within the shadows around her before she spoke. "Are you going to talk, or do you fight as badly as you taunt?"

The figure seemed to smile more broadly, as green and blue witchflame began coursing over his armor. Kale saw that tiny faces all over his armor began appearing, each moaning a mournful noise that transcended language, each one making the noises only those who truly knew despair could make. The rider began singing a low, ominous dirge that was accentuated and punctuated perfectly by the noise the tiny souls of his armor were keening.

Kale began to feel slightly depressed and mournful himself, his mind going automatically and without his consent over all the things he ever regretted doing. He shook himself to clear his head, and glanced at the sneaking man in the grove below, who seemed unaffected. He was just watching as Kale himself was. For some reason, that made Kale feel better, the eerie noises the rider and his armor were making affecting him less.

As he looked at the two circling combatants though, he saw Rosethorne was beginning to be affected as well. Her steps seemed a little less light and graceful, her stride a little less purposeful, the shadows around her moving more randomly. She barely parried the first brutal strike made by the rider, the painful clang of scimitar and long blade ringing out in the still night air.

The look on the rider's face was nearly triumphant now, his head inclined slightly. He simply beat at her with his large, heavy blade, which she seemed to parry with difficulty. He swept low, her legs saved only by the parry she barely made in time. He continued in his motion to strike at her neck, which she ducked and attempted to parry with her claw. She was a little off-balance as the sword struck though, the heavy strike knocking her on her back five feet away. The rider seemed exultant, his singing increasing in volume.

He didn't walk over to her immediately, which surprised Kale. The rider simply kept singing, as Rosethorne lay on her back, chest heaving slightly with exertion. She reached across her body slowly and reconnected her claw to her gauntlet with a muffled click, and she slowly began getting to her feet.

The rider paused in his singing, and spoke again in a mocking tone through the triumphant, cruel smile on his face. "Your army has been defeated by your failure, your position as head of the armies of the Mask replaced. I should thank you, Rosethorne. Without your ineptness, I wouldn't have taken your position for many years."

She paused as she sat up, her eyes narrowing. Her normally toneless voice carried an undercurrent of anger now. "So, Laughing Doom, you came here to finally get your wish?"

His smile disappeared in an instant. "My name is Gunnar, the Champion of the Abyss now."

She hopped lightly and gracefully to her feet, the shadows beginning to caress her once more. "You've been Exalted for a paltry week, and you seek to supplant me now?"

He smiled again, cruelly. "You fell to someone only a week Exalted, Rosethorne. It's your time to pass on, and allow me your former position."

The very air around the two began to darken, an unnatural darkness growing in strength. Rosethorne's eyes glowed once more, brighter than before, nearly blazing with light. No sheets of blue flame appeared now, only shadows that moved and made threatening motions toward Gunnar. "You have a habit of dreaming of things that you cannot achieve, Doom. Now I shall remind you of why you cannot achieve it."

In the span of barely an eyeblink, she was upon him once more, but there was no lethargy in her movements now. Gunnar began singing once more, but a slash at his throatguard stopped him.

Kale saw the look on Gunnar's face change quite rapidly from truimphant smile, to arrogant humor, to surprise, and finally to his teeth clenched together in concentration. The speed with which she attacked him left him no time to strike in return; indeed, he barely had time to block the furious storm of strikes she rained down upon him from all sides.

Kale watched with amusement now, as he finished the last piece of his apple. He glanced down at the white-haired figure watching from the shadows on the other side of the grove, and saw him frown. Kale smiled a bit wider. Evidently, this was not the result he expected.

Gunnar tried to strike once at her with a brutal strike, intended to cut her in half, and halt her furious onslaught. Instead, the talons of her claw seemed to grow from the top of his weapon arm, his eyes opening wide in shock and pain. She swept at the backs of his knees, making him stumble to sit on his heels. Her blade raised his chin. He struggled to move his weapon arm, but was unable to with her claws through the bones separating his shoulder from his arm. She glared into his eyes, as the shadows began to move less, the preternatural shroud of darkness around them beginning to lift.

"You will need to listen very carefully to what I have to tell you, Doom."

He interrupted her, his voice bearing evidence of the pain he was in. "My name is Gunnar!"

She twisted the claws through his shoulder, and his teeth clenched in pain. "I want you to remember my words after your death, and remember them even in your next lifetime, Doom."

She raised his head with the back of her scimitar to look him in the eyes, Kale realizing that the curve near the top of the blade was designed for just such a purpose. "You're going to die tonight, Doom, and you're going to die by my blade taking your head."

Her eyes glared into his, her mouth changing from impassive to looking angry. "However, I'll be watching for you, Doom. If you try coming after me in your next incarnation, not only will I take your head then, I'll stuff and mount it in a special shrine I'll build specifically for this purpose. After that, I'll hunt you down in each and every lifetime you incarnate into, and after beating you unconscious, I'll drag your unconscious form to that shrine to show you how many times I've killed you once you wake, and telling you that the number of skulls in that shrine is about to increase by one before I take your head. I'll continue doing this for as long as I live, and keep doing it into my next lifetime as well."

She pulled Gunnar toward her, pulling them face to face. "I'll be waiting for you to try coming after me again." With one motion, she yanked her claw out of his shoulder, and beheaded him with her scimitar. His head fell on the grass with a hollow clanking noise, the dirge-like noise coming from the souls of his armor falling silent.

Kale glanced again at the other silent watcher, who was frowning. Kale smirked. Evidently, this wasn't how the white-haired watcher expected things would happen at all. Kale saw the man begin to pull out two short, thin blades, but then think better of them and sheath them once more before skulking away, back the way he came.

He looked back at Rosethorne and the fallen rider. His eyes opened wide with surprise as he saw the warstrider trot over to Gunnar, and scoop his body and head into its head...cavity thing, and trot off the way it had come, much less swift that before. He noticed Rosethorne made no move to stop or impede it in any way.

He hopped silently out of the tree he was hiding within, and land noiselessly onto the ground below. He walked quietly over to where Rosethorne stood, gazing silently at the plains below. He made sure to walk within her field of vision, just in case she was still a little high-strung from her fight. She moved swiftly into a battle stance when he entered her vision, but she relaxed immediately upon seeing who it was. She sat down on the soft earth, and took off her claw. She took out a black cloth from her scimitar's sheath, and began carefully cleaning it. Kale ducked down into a crouch a few feet away from her, facing her directly. "Old friend of yours?"

She glanced up at him, looking at him quizzically, before returning her attention to her scimitar. "A young upstart who didn't get the message after the first time I took his head."

Kale smirked, and sat down crosslegged, shifting his position until he was comfortable. He pulled out another apple, and began coring and slicing it with his bootknife. "There was someone else here, as well."

She glanced quickly up at him, and gave him a questioning look. "Who?"

He shrugged as he continued slicing his apple. "Nobody I've seen before. Short, white hair, snuck around like he was trying to not be noticed. He'd obviously not been in the woodlands much, though."

Kale was almost surprised to see the barest suggestion of a smile on her normally somber face. "Was he carrying two short swords?"

He finished slicing his apple into eight equal pieces, and threw the core into the grove. "Yes. He looked like he was about to pull them out and introduce himself, but thought better of it and decided to sneak off, instead."

She nodded slightly, as she began carefully sharpening the edge of her scimitar, checking it carefully for nicks and scratches, and polishing them away expertly with her sharpening stone. "He was just watching?"

He looked up at her again as he began to munch on his apple. He replied after he had finished eating the first piece. "Yeah. He didn't look especially happy after you introduced laughing boy to the business end of your sword."

He saw a ghost of a smile on her face again as she sharpened her scimitar. "He has a tendency to overestimate his ability."

He smirked. "Which one? The sneaky one, or the one who needed singing lessons?"

Her smile grew a little more as she began cleaning and sharpening the blades of her claw. "The arrogant upstart."

Kale smirked a little more widely. "You could accuse both of them of that. I mean, the sneaky one wasn't anywhere near as sneaky as he thought he was."

Rosethorne's shoulders and chestplate shook slightly as she smiled a little more widely, almost approaching a real smile. She glanced up at Kale. "It seems you share their arrogance. How do you know you weren't seen as well?"

Kale grinned. "Because unlike him, I actually looked all around me. But tell me - isn't killing the person who was supposed to take your place in your weird undead hierarchy going to have repercussions?"

She was still smiling slightly as she sharpened out a nick in one of the blades of her claw. "Probably," she said, making eye contact with Kale, and not looking away.

Kale looked back at her eyes, as he munched away quietly on another piece of apple. When he finished, he spoke up once more. "I have to ask - where does that leave you, now?"

The smile disappeared from her face, replaced by a look of concentration as she went back to work on her claw. "It leaves me as a rogue." She looked back at him briefly. "Since you were the one who cost me my position and command, I should kill you. You insulted my honor, and I should kill you for that as well. However, you saved my life, three times now."

Kale interrupted, a curious look on his face. "Not that I mind, but what do you mean by 'three times?' I remember carrying you away from where you got introduced to the business end of a canyon wall, and giving you a place to hide from the Immaculates. Where's the third time?"

She looked at him again as she answered, before looking back at her claw. "You gave me my weapons back before Doom arrived. If you hadn't, I would have died." She worked a little more on the nick in the right blade of her claw before looking at him again, with the barest hint of a smile on her face. "The two reasons I have for taking your head are canceled out by the two life debts I owe you. However, that still leaves one debt of life."

Kale said nothing, just smiling as he ate his apple. He really wasn't sure what to say. First off, he was surprised at her subtle shows of emotion tonight. From what little he knew of her, she wasn't the emotional type, at all. She had shown both anger and amusement in one night. More importantly, she said she still owed him one, so wasn't planning on killing him unless he pissed her off again.

She glanced at him again, looking purposeful. There was something else there that Kale could barely see...was it...slight nervousness from her? That was certainly odd. She spoke up again. "Since I still owe you my life on one count, I would follow you and serve as your retainer until that debt has been repaid. Do you object?"

Kale raised an eyebrow. Now she wanted to tag along with him? Man, you save someone's life, and look what happens. He smiled before he answered, realizing that she might be somewhat fun to hang around with. As long as she didn't lose that temper of hers, that is. "Fine, but I don't deal well with having servants. If you agree to travel as companion and not as my servant, then yes."

She smiled slightly as she worked on the last blade of her claw, sharpening out a small nick in the black metal. "Very well. Does giving me my weapons back mean you trust me now?"

He chuckled softly. "Not yet. That will take a while."

She nodded in understanding. Knowing her, she probably never let her guard down around anyone, at any time, for any reason. Given the people he had seen who were Abyssals as well, Kale couldn't say he really blamed her.

She spoke up once more as she was sharpening the curves of her claw, her face looking solemn again. "The white-haired one you spoke of is probably Noro, another Deathknight in service to the Mask. If you saw him once, he will probably come again."

Kale nodded. "I'll keep my eyes open." He went back to munching on the last of his apple. He was pleased, the apple trees nearby had some delicious fruit this year. It made him think briefly. Even as all life within Thorns was extinguished, it seemed that other living things nearby grew in response to massive loss of life, as nature tried to balance itself.

He looked at her once more, as she was putting her claw back on. He hid a smile. "You know, if you want to avoid advertising your presence and what you are, you're going to need to lose the armor."

She glared at him briefly at first, before her look softened into curiosity. "I will be unable to sell it, as mortal hands cannot work the metal. What kind of armor would you suggest I get in its place?"

He rested his head on his knuckles. "Actually, I think you shouldn't wear any. If you dressed in common clothes, you'll be much less conspicuous."

She looked at him as if suspecting that he had suddenly taken leave of his senses. "And what happens if a fight breaks out?"

He shrugged, a small smile curling one corner of his mouth. "Somehow, I don't think lack of armor will slow you down at all. Besides, it might help you to be a bit quicker on your feet in a fight."

She raised both eyebrows slightly, a look of part amusement and part disbelief on her face. "Are you actually attempting to give me suggestions on how to fight?"

He smirked again at the dubious look she gave him. "Well, I did notice that you rely overmuch on your armor and parrying to avoid getting hit. Learning how to dodge does have its uses, you know."

She looked at him again as if suspecting that he had lost his mind. "This coming from one who would rather run than fight?"

Kale laughed. "Hey, you said to fell you, and you fell. I still don't see why you're mad about that."

She sighed slightly, before her shoulders and breastplate shook slightly as she smiled, shaking her head.


	27. A Huntress Out of the Shadows

Kale certainly didn't waste much time, Rosethorne thought. After their discussion, he asked her if she'd mind leaving now, during the night. Of course, Rosethorne was ready to leave immediately, as all she had were her weapons and her armor. After cunningly hiding all evidence of the fire that had been burning comfortingly just a few minutes before, Kale had suggested they take one last look at Thorns before traveling any place else.

What struck Rosethorne as unsettling was that Kale had asked her these things. He hadn't told her, he hadn't ordered her to do anything; he'd simply asked politely, and had considered her opinions when she offered them. She would have considered him weak-minded for not being willing to take charge, but for the small part of her that felt pleased at being asked instead of told. A very small part of her, but it was there, just the same.

She tried to watch how he walked, how he stepped, and how he moved to be as damnably silent as he was. He was walking right beside her as they walked the path toward Thorns, and she hadn't heard a single footstep he made. It was unnerving, especially because she didn't feel any essence flowing from him at all. After ten minutes of walking next to him and not hearing any movement he made except for when he spoke, she felt compelled to ask. "How do you step so quietly? I've not heard you take a single step since we started."

He grinned at her as he replied. "I'm just good."

She glared at him.

He chuckled quietly, as he turned his eyes toward the path ahead once more. He sounded more serious this time. "Actually, I was taught by my father how to move through the forest and not disturb the animals living their lives within from an early age. I've been doing it nearly since I could walk. I suppose it's habit now."

She nodded. It made logical sense, but didn't change the fact that it was slightly annoying. His lack of noise as he walked made her own normally light footsteps seem unnaturally loud in the nighttime air. She glanced down at his feet every few paces or so, trying to learn how he did it.

She still hadn't figured out more than what he was doing, rather than how he was doing it when he spoke up in a quiet voice. "Here we are. We should be able to see fine from here."

She nodded, and ducked down as he did, both of them mostly hidden by the low-growing shrubs and tall grasses skirting the edges of the canyon walls near Thorns. They looked down on the plains below, seeing the many cooking fires that belonged to the individual camps of the Immaculate host.

Kale narrowed his eyebrows in confusion, and whispered to her, "Why do you think they're still out there on the plains, instead of inside?"

One corner of her mouth curled upwards as she surveyed the scene below her, noting all details. She leaned slightly toward him, and whispered back, "Because they haven't taken back the town; right now, they're just trying to prevent any more of the Mask's armies out of the town or the Shadowland nearby." She pointed with one finger extended toward one of the wall towers of the town in the distance. "See the guards on the walls?"

His eyes followed the direction she was pointing, and his eyes widened slightly as he beheld the skeletons patrolling on the walls. She smirked a bit more as she saw the surprise on his face. "What did you expect, that the Mask of Winters wouldn't expect retaliation for what he did?"

He took a deep breath before whispering back. "No, it makes sense." He paused, looking again with slight distaste at the possessed skeletons. "Looks like a happy little standoff, basically."

She nodded. "And will be for a while. I didn't expect that the Immaculate army that came here would be so large, but they won't take back the town." She looked at the base of the walls, where the Shadowland near the town was barely visible in the night air. The tangible shadows caressed the town walls, moving in tides like an ocean of shadows made manifest. It seemed to call to her softly in the night, asking her to come and be embraced by it's comforting essence, to walk the ashen plains of the Underworld once more. She shook herself slightly, and took a breath. If she were to return, she would be found and slain instantly. She would take many with her, but she would fall, and be part of the Mask of Winters' entourage once more.

Was it simple adolescent rebellion that she felt, demanding that she stubbornly close her ears to the silent plea of the Shadowland to return to the only place she'd really called home? Or...was it something deeper than that?

She was interrupted in her thoughts by Kale gently touching her arm. She was surprised by the warmth of his hand. "Its time we weren't here," he whispered softly.

She nodded, and they moved quietly away from their lookout point. They walked for a ways and stopped, seeing the Immaculate patrol that would have found them if they stayed five minutes longer. She felt her hand straying to the handle of her scimitar, but stopped herself at seeing the amused look and raised eyebrow on Kale's expressive face. She glared one last time at them before walking away once more.

"You take this death stuff seriously, don't you?" She turned to look at Kale, who still had that same amused look on his face.

She looked back to the path ahead of them as she answered. "Bringing the release of death to people is what I do best, whether alone, or with an army at my back."

She saw him nod in understanding out of the corner of her eye before looking at her questioningly. "You're not speaking in monotone anymore."

She looked at him in surprise before looking ahead of her once more, inclining her head slightly. "I hadn't noticed."

She saw him stop walking out of the corner of her eye, and stopped walking as well, to look at him give her another questioning look, with more than a hint of amusement again. "You stopped tonight, during and after the fight with that guy who tried to kill you." He tilted his head to the side, as if looking at her from a different angle. He spoke up again when she didn't give him a response right away. "Facing him and winning was almost a sense of...release, wasn't it?"

Her eyebrows raised in surprise as she gazed steadily into his eyes. "How in the name of Death did you know that?"

He shrugged. "I've learned how to see the subtle things; more so since the Essence that Exalted me taught me how to do so better."

Her eyebrows narrowed in a mixture of surprise and confusion. "Your Essence taught you?"

He nodded, a little surprised at her question. "Yeah, she's been teaching me for the past couple months, letting me know exactly what I'm getting myself into, and showing me how to use my essence."

The corners of her mouth curled upward slightly as she looked at him, amused. "Your Essence is female?"

He raised an eyebrow at her. "Yeah, so?"

She smiled a little bit more. "I see. It explains why you didn't touch me when you had the chance." She turned to go, and began walking.

He was quickly at her side, looking at her with a mixture of amusement and slight annoyance. "No, I didn't touch you because I'm a gentleman. I won't touch a woman like that unless she's willing, and preferably awake."

She nodded slowly as she looked into his eyes, the corners of her mouth still curled upwards into a slight smile, dubious. "Of course."

She mostly believed him, but she also enjoyed getting him back for the times he'd outwitted her. However, she was still slightly confused. All the men she'd known would take advantage of an unconscious woman, being unable to help themselves and control their urges. And yet, he hadn't done so. Did he think of her as unattractive?

He gave her an exasperated look. "What?!"

She smirked at him slightly before turning to go again. "You're an odd man, Solar."

He kept pace with her. "Is your Essence a woman?"

Rosethorne shook her head slightly. "No, it's what's left of a man."

She saw him smirk briefly out of the corner of her eye, as he turned his head to look at the path ahead of them again. "Explains why you wear armor all the time."

She narrowed her eyes as she turned to look at him. He had a neutral expression on his face, as if attempting to look innocent. "And just what are you implying, Solar?"

He shook his head, still looking neutrally and innocently at the path ahead of them. "Nothing at all. A person's preferences as to who they'd like to share a bed with is none of my business."

Rosethorne glared at him. He turned to look at her, and grinned at her before looking back at the path before them, chuckling quietly. She turned to look ahead as well, though smirked slightly as she did.

They walked for a few minutes in silence, before she turned to look at him once more. "Where are you going?"

He looked back at her. "I was going to go back to my parents' old cabin. There'd be a few clothes there that might suit you, so you don't have to wear your armor all the time."

Though she intellectually understood his reasons for suggesting she not wear armor now, she still resented the idea. Her armor was a symbol of her ability to fight, to lead armies; a symbol that she was not someone to be taken lightly. It intimidated others as well, which was a nice start to a potential fight. However, he did make a good point - her armor marked her for what she was, which was an Abyssal - an avatar of Death itself, which the Dragon-Blooded fools were trying determinedly to contain. She would be marked and hunted for it, now that she was alone.

After half an hour of walking, they came upon a small clearing in the forest, hidden on all sides by the dense growth of trees. No smoke rose from it's stone chimney, and the windows had been carefully boarded up. She glanced at her companion, but saw no look of surprise on his face. In fact, she saw a brief look of sadness on his face as they neared the cabin, though he managed to hide it after a moment. That made her curious, though she didn't say anything yet.

He held a finger to his lips as he looked at her, indicating silence. He motioned for her to wait on the edge of the trees, and she nodded in understanding. She observed him move stealthily toward the cabin, looking all around him as he did so. He came to the door, and pressed his ear against it, his brown eyes narrowed in concentration. He opened the door, and went inside. He appeared again after a few moments, before calling to her softly. "It's clear, come on inside."

She marched toward the cabin, nearing the door soon enough, and looked inside, taking in the surroundings. The cabin hadn't been abandoned long; a few months, at most. A light cover of dust covered some places, though the furniture and other things inside didn't look decayed or rotted in the least. She saw Kale putting wood into the fireplace, adding more from the small pile beside it until he was satisfied, and lit it, creating a small, mostly smokeless fire. He filled a teapot full of water, and rested it on the rack above the now-burning dry wood.

He turned to look at her, the expression on his face indicating he had just thought of something. "You can drink water, can't you?"

She nodded. "I can drink water, but I cannot gain sustenance from your food."

He gave her a half-smile, and strode toward one of the cabinets on the opposite wall, opening a few of the drawers and looking inside. He paused as he opened the second one, just staring into it for a few seconds before he seemed to gather himself together again, and look at her. "See if the clothes in here fit you. I'm going to check around this place for a little while and make sure nothing's amiss. I'll knock when I get back; just let me know when you're done."

He strode for the door before her voice stopped him. "What shall I do with the teapot?"

He turned a bit more to look her in the eyes, and smiled a little. "Once it starts whistling, just move it to the clay plate on top of the fireplace. I'll take care of it when I get back."

She nodded. "Very well."

He walked out of the cabin, closing the door quietly behind him. She looked around again, and saw a bathtub in the corner, which made her smile. It had been a few days, and she certainly needed one, having not bathed since she came to the surface. That thought made her pause. Had it really been five days already since then?

She thought more as she began heating more water for her bath, thinking about how much things had changed in such a short span of time. Four days ago, she was the acknowledged mailed right fist of the Mask of Winters, charging toward the surface world, assured of her power as general of all armies. She had taken the town with brutal efficiency, and had even received acknowledgement of such by the Mask of Winters himself.

But as if to balance how well things seemed to be going, it went badly so terribly fast. She had drawn the Immaculate expeditionary force into the canyon, having laid preparations to bottle them up like fish in a barrel, ripe for the slaughter. She had blamed Kale for helping her to lose the battle, but in reality, the loss of a paltry hundred possessed skeletons had affected the battle little. She had drawn out the battle, not expecting that they'd get so many reinforcements. She had slain many of them, their deaths and wounds giving her even more strength as she slew them, but it wasn't enough. Her ambushing army had been cut down, just as she had been taken down shortly afterwards.

Her questions were still unanswered; about why Kale had saved her life, about why he had helped her, about why he had returned her weapons in time to fight Laughing Doom, now reborn. She smiled at this. She had no doubt that she'd see that incompetent fool again, but it wouldn't be for quite a while. The Mask did not like failure, and would put Laughing Doom through even more training after he Exalted, during the time the Mask of Winters personally supervised the running of Thorns, and defense of the town against the Immaculate legions. The Mask would ensure that the next time she saw Laughing Doom, he would be more ready to duel her.

She smiled a little more widely as she put the last heated bucket of water into the bathtub and began to remove her armor. It didn't matter how well trained he was; she'd kill him again. She stopped, as she realized her own arrogance. Laughing Doom as an Essence had Exalted a new warrior for the Mask, and having been Exalted for barely a week, had nearly won the fight. She clenched her teeth in a silent oath to herself. She'd just have to be more than ready for him when he arrived next.

She wrinkled her nose as she removed the last of her armor, and began to remove the underpadding. She didn't sweat as much now, being what she was, but it had been a few days of heavy fighting since she had last had a bath. As she got in and began to wash, she half-wondered why the Solar, Kale, hadn't said anything. From how his eyes and ears seemed preternaturally sharp, he had undoubtedly smelled what had made her nose wrinkle involuntarily as she took off her armor.

Once she finished bathing, she dried herself with one of the large, soft towels near the tub, and walked to the drawer Kale had opened for her. She saw that half the drawer had clothes made for a woman, and the other side had clothed made for a man. All were clean and neatly folded. She wondered at this. Kale seemed a bit young to have been married, though how someone looked physically was a poor indicator for their true age, if they were an Exalt.

She looked through the male clothes, and eyed them critically. They were made for a man with wider shoulders than Kale, though not quite as tall. This fact confused her more. Were these the clothes of his parents, perhaps? What had happened to them, that would necessitate boarding up the cabin, allowing it to grow dusty with disuse?

Her mind returned to her original task, and checked to see if the woman's clothes would fit her. The woman was obviously shorter than she was, and not as well-endowed, either; the shirts having to stretch to barely cover her chest, the arms of the shirts closing tightly into the muscles of her arms. She didn't bother to check the size of the woman's skirts, as she didn't like the idea of wearing a skirt in any case. Hearing the teakettle beginning to whistle gave her a few moments to think, as she set it on the clay plate atop the fireplace. She walked back to the drawer, looking intently at the man's clothes.

A few of the man's shirts fit her nicely, though they ended slightly above her waist. Well, that was fine; the shirts themselves were slightly baggy still, which would allow her full freedom of movement. She picked out a few of the man's pants, and found a few that fit her waist perfectly, though they ended a few inches above her ankles. However, they were baggy as well, which wouldn't hinder her any if a fight broke out. Even if she weren't wearing armor to advertise that she was constantly ready for a fight, she would still be ready for one.

She smiled. The Solar, Kale, seemed to be unwilling to start a fight, though he was certainly willing to finish one. As much as she disdained his fighting around him, she had seen him fight with that large, slightly unwieldy oversized katana, and knew him to be capable with it. He wasn't as experienced with it as she was experienced with her claw and scimitar, but then again, he didn't have the look of someone who'd been training in any kind of military.

She looked down at her bare feet, wondering what she could do for shoes. She could probably wear her armor-plated foot coverings from her armor, as their black color would help hide the fact that they were in fact armored unless someone studied them with more than a casual glance. She finished pulling on the other armored shoe just as Kale knocked on the door.

"Enter," she said, standing up now, and testing how well she could move in her current state of dress. Kale walked in, and raised an eyebrow as he saw her, looking her up and down thoughtfully. Rosethorne noticed to her private amusement that his eyes lingered just a little longer than necessary on the pale skin revealed by where the shirt and pants didn't quite meet, as well as her pale neck before meeting her eyes once more. "My father's clothes fit you better, I take it?"

She nodded, looking curiously at him, now having confirmation of whose clothes those were. "Aye." She wanted to ask what had happened to them, as their memory still caused him a little pain, as if he hadn't accepted their deaths as inevitable. Perhaps they had reached a violent end. She decided not to press for answers, for now.

He smiled slightly. "I'd tease you again about wearing a man's clothes, but I already did so once today."

Rosethorne smiled slightly in response before replying. "It's better for your health that you do not."

The smile stayed on his face as he walked over to the teakettle. He glanced at her as he poured himself a cup of tea. "Thank you for taking the kettle off the fire."

She nodded in response, being unused to thanks, or praise. "I took a bath as well."

He smiled with a hint of impishness as he looked her in the eyes once more. "Good. You were getting pretty ripe." That definitely earned him a glare.

Both whirled toward the door, hearing a heavy hand knocking loudly. "Open up, in the name of the Scarlet Empress!"

Kale glanced at her, calmly taking a sip of his tea. "I hope you left your armor near the tub."


	28. A Journey of Dusk and Night

Right, play it cool now that you already messed up. Nice one, hotshot.

Kale berated himself silently, sipping his tea, as he heard the heavy pounding on the door from the Immaculate guards who'd been snooping around the cabin. When he'd knocked on the door to see if Madame Psychopath was done changing into clothes that didn't immediately brand her to the Immaculates as someone to attack, what he'd meant to say was "We need to act natural, Immaculates are coming." And what actually came out of his mouth as he stood like an idiot in the doorway? That's right, "My father's clothes fit you better, I take it?"

Well, it wasn't _entirely_ his fault for completely and utterly losing his train of thought. He'd been expecting to see an undead lady pretending to be a normal living, breathing, human commoner, and what he saw was...well, if he didn't know better, he'd think it was a normal, healthy, gorgeous woman who hadn't seen the sun in the last ten years. The drool threatening to escape the corner of his mouth was quickly reigned in due to two factors: one, the woman he almost drooled looking at could probably kill him in a matter of seconds, and two, there were Immaculates at the door that he'd forgotten to tell her about.

He didn't really remember what he'd said, as he was busy trying not to stare at parts of her he shouldn't, but he remembered his brilliantly witty remark he'd said to her right after the knocking started: "I hope you left your armor near the tub." Right genius, like it'll be all her fault if things go badly.

He could feel their suspicion already, so his little trick that would generate the "Nope, nothing to see here, move along" effect wouldn't work. He swiftly took off his quiver, bow, sheathed blade, and satchel, and kicked them underneath the bed as he was walking to the door sipping his tea, trying to project an outward air of calm. He did his best not to look at her as he neared the door, otherwise he knew his little self-assured act would break down completely. Dammit, nobody ever told him that she'd actually be attractive, let alone mind-numbingly gorgeous.

He opened the door right as the soldier was preparing to knock again, which would probably result in the door getting smashed to splinters. Apparently, the soldier didn't know his own strength. He opened the door, feigning surprise as he saw who it was. "Oh, good morning, gentlemen. What can I do for you?"

He saw that the way the soldier was standing, he'd been prepared to punch the door in as Kale opened it. Sorry pal, so very sorry to deprive you the pleasure of smashing in my front door. "Mornin', sir. We're ordering all civilians to vacate the area. There's reportedly an Anathema running around loose and unaccounted for, and the fighting from Thorns might spread near here. We'd rather no innocent lives be in danger."

Kale's eyes opened wide in mock-surprise, and even pretended to choke on his tea. "A-A-Anathema, you say? Fighting? Oh dear..." He turned to look at the Abyssal standing a few paces behind him, the look on her face neutral. That made him feel better for a moment, until he realized that the look on her face as she killed those other five Immaculate soldiers was also neutral. Oh, joy. "Rose, did you know anything about this?"

She glared at him for shortening her name like that, but she also replied, in a tone of voice that sat neatly on the corners of annoyed and suspicious. "Nothing recent, no."

The soldier on his doorstep tipped his helmet to her, with a mumbled "Ma'am," before he faced Kale once more. "Well, it's for your own protection. We'd be happy to escort you two to the next town, if you'd like. But we're trying to evacuate as many people around here as fast as possible, so please just pack what you think you'll need. If you have any weapons and know how to use them, we encourage you to bring them along as well - we've heard some reports of bandits in the area as well."

Kale didn't dare look back at Rosethorne now. If he did, he knew he'd lose his composure. "I see. Alright, we'll be packed and leaving soon. Don't worry about the escort though, we'll be alright."

The soldier looked slightly surprised. "I mean no offence to you or your wife sir, but we'd feel better if we knew you were safe."

Kale kept a straight face with a valiant effort. He could only imagine what her response would be to being called his "wife," let alone the insinuation that they couldn't take care of themselves. On the other hand, for being a Dragon-Blooded, this soldier didn't seem so bad. Must be the exception to the rule, he guessed.

"No, that's alright. I grew up in these woods, and I know them like the back of my hand; I know the safe routes to Ayodha, Celeren, and Puyo," Kale replied. It was much easier to say that, than "don't worry, the lady behind me gets bored if she's not killing someone."

The soldier nodded. "Very well. We suggest you leave by dusk tonight, though. Have a good and safe journey, sir." And with that, they left.

Kale closed the door after them, somewhat shocked. _Polite_ Dragon-Blooded? When his father spoke up about the Dragon-Blooded at all, it was to say something scathing. Kale quickly got the idea growing up that for the most part, Dragon-Blooded Exalts were trained to be drunk on their power. Still, it was nice to see an exception.

As he stood there for a second, still looking at the closed door, he knew he'd have to turn around and look at her. He was almost afraid to, especially after hearing that remark of hers. Ah well, they needed to discuss this anyway.

Kale turned around to see her gazing thoughtfully at the door, and then look at him. "Don't call me 'Rose' ever again."

He shrugged as nonchalantly as possible. "Sorry if it offended you. I thought the soldiers would find it suspicious that we don't talk while they were here, and it seemed more familiar than your full name."

She just looked at him. It was a neutral look, one that basically said "I'm not offering any suggestions, but be careful when you do so." Nice.

He decided to break the silence. "Well, I've been wanting to travel anyway. Did you want to stay in an inn tonight, and then travel the next day?"

She spoke after a moment. "I cannot sleep in the same building as the living."

That was new. "Why not?"

As if waiting for him to ask, as she probably had, she replied. "The Abyss-touched Essence within me will resonate more and more if I do so."

Yet another question he felt compelled to ask, even though he knew he was going to regret hearing the answer. "What do you mean by 'resonate?'"

She looked at him as if expecting him to drop the subject. "The more I act contrary to what I am, the more I resonate with the Oblivion within me rebelling. Unhealthy things happen when I resonate enough."

Wait a minute. "So you're okay with sleeping outside, but not with sleeping on a bed with someone in the same building as you?"

She merely shrugged.

Okay, then. Kale and Rosethorne exchanged a purposeful look, and then began packing lightly, as the Immaculate soldier suggested. They looked at each other again at roughly the same time, having grabbed the important bits: weapons mostly, especially in her case. Her satchel looked quite empty.

She caught his look, and looked into the washing area of the cabin. "May I borrow a towel and some of your soap?"

This is so surreal, he thought. "Sure; grab a few changes of clothes too, just in case."

She nodded, and was quickly ready, her satchel neatly packed. He had to admit, she looked quite a bit different with that scimitar sheathed at her hip, a satchel over her shoulder, and without armor on. He turned away and walked toward the door before he began staring. Again. "Alright, ready to go?"

She simply swept by him out onto the grass in front of the cabin. He followed suit, and both were quickly on their way to Ayodha. He explained his reasoning for going to this town to her as they walked. Though Kale got the distinct impression she was only half-listening, he talked anyway.

"Ayodha is a small town, though it has all the necessities: blacksmith, and all that. They won't ask too many questions about two strangers. It's always been a pretty easy-going place."

She nodded once at this. Her silence quickly became contagious, with nary a word passed between them as they walked onward. She had a very purposeful, marching stride that set a pretty good pace. He'd had trouble keeping step with her at first, being unused to marching, but quickly adjusted.

Minutes turned into hours as they walked onward in silence. Thankfully, this silence gave him some time alone with his thoughts. Such as, "How did I manage to get myself into this again?" and "I wonder what's going through her mind right now?"

Suddenly, she stopped in her pace, just standing on the path. Kale stopped as well, and looked back at her questioningly. "What is it?"

She turned slightly to look him directly in the eyes, fixing him in place with her stare. "You've saved my life, you've even clothed me. Why are you doing this? What are you planning?"

...Now he knew what a deer felt like with an arrow through its head. If he told her about what Melia had told him, she'd probably jump him, and not in the healthy way. Having been brought up by his parents to never tell a lie, this nonetheless didn't exclude only telling parts of the truth. On the other hand, something about her made him want to be honest with her.

"Fair's fair. I'll tell you why I saved your life the first and subsequent times and why I'm still helping you now, if you agree to tell me why you're here allowing me to help you, instead of back in the land of the dead or wherever."

The subtle look of surprise on her face told him that she wasn't expecting that. She paused for a moment, obviously thinking. "And why should I tell you these things before you tell me why you saved me?"

Kale smiled a little. "Because even though I made the offer of helping you, you still could have said no."

She looked into the distance, not really staring at anything, just thinking. Kale had done the same himself many times, though it was still a little strange to see someone else do it. She came to a decision a few moments later. "Very well. I agree to your price, but I shall pay it later, in exchange for your answers."

In other words, whatever her reasons were, they probably made her about as uncomfortable as it would be for him to explain to her that his Essence told him he should save her, because she had Melia's husband's Essence within her. Yeah, how well would that go?

They walked along in silence once more, each lost in thought. Both of them seemed to be lost in their own thoughts, not paying as much attention to the world around them. Kale chided himself silently for this when he heard the first gruff voice from the woods around him.

"Oy lads! We got ourselves a nice young lass, and her rich boyfriend!"

"Aye, I wants a turn wit' her before she's too cut up to be pretty no more."

Kale glanced sideways. Oh yes, those two remarks had certainly caught her attention. However, unlike what the bandits were expecting, she didn't get shaky, fearful, or do anything rash. She simply moved the bag of her satchel to be facing her back rather than her front, and moved the cloth safety off the handle of her scimitar, with her right hand sitting lightly on the handle of the black-bladed weapon.

Kale felt that it was polite to at least give them some warning. "Look guys, we can see you, and you're not going to get a damn thing from us, except exploratory surgery with cold steel. Piss off."

Four of them leapt from the tree above, and the bushes around them, as more appeared behind them, leaving them surrounded. One of them snarled, "Oh, they wants a fight, do they lads?"

It was over with pathetically soon, really. Kale knew that they were just ordinary humans, and so he felt a little bad for helping her lay all of them low. Wasn't this an abuse of power, really?

Rosethorne apparently was having no ethical qualms about it, as she simply cleaned and replaced her scimitar in its sheath and re-adjusted her satchel, impatient for him to be ready as well.

It seemed ironic, really. It was one of his worst fears to be corrupted by the seductive lure of power by the essence he now felt flowing within him, and here he was, walking with someone who apparently had no problems with it. In fact, he thought darkly, she probably had it a bit easier - being Abyssal, spending time with the living was bad anyway, so killing was no big thing.

However, for Kale, though the number of people he'd slain was still less than ten, he still felt the pangs of regret and "what if" pretty strongly. Though he knew it was necessary in a life-or-death situation, and though he'd reacted precisely as he'd been taught to do, he still felt their blood on his hands. He just hoped he'd never be as nonchalant about killing as she seemed to be.

They trudged onward in silence once more, both lost in thought again. As the forest's edge gave way to grassy plains, they were both slightly surprised to see dusk falling, both having been lost in thought enough to not really notice the passage of time as much.

She spoke to him for the first time in hours. "Do you have a purpose for going to this town?"

He shrugged, and decided to be utterly honest. "The best reason I could think of is that Ayodha's far enough away from Thorns so we don't run into any of your old friends or the Immaculates. Besides, it seemed to be the excellent starting point for a good journey."

That earned him a quizzical look. "What sort of journey are you planning?"

He shrugged again. "Well, to be honest, I've never really explored outside of the small area of the world I grew up in. Now that I have the time, I'd like to just explore."

There was a pause, before she spoke to him in an acidic voice, giving him a look to match. "You don't know where you're going?"

He looked directly at her now, since both of them had stopped. "I know in general, but I don't have an itinerary, no."

She was still giving him the same look, but her voice didn't seem so caustic this time. "Exploring just for its own sake seems nebulous."

He nodded, his face serious. Because he was. For now. "True. But on the other hand, I have nothing really tying me home any longer."

She tilted her head sideways somewhat, as if to view him from a different angle. Finally, she looked ahead of them again with a straightened posture, as if she'd reached a decision. As indeed, she had. "Lead on, Solar."

He glared at her. "You know that name is taboo, and will probably gather us unnecessary attention, right?"

She looked blankly at him. "Are you afraid of what might happen?"

He shook his head, looking at her slightly in disbelief. "No, I'd just rather not attract undue attention. After all, there's two of us. Granted, we're strong enough to handle ourselves, but I'd rather not attract people's attentions any more than possible. The more we resemble forgettable tourists where we visit, the better."

She tilted her head slightly as he was talking. It reminded Kale of a crow deciding which parts of the corpse were the best to eat. She straightened as he finished speaking, and shrugged slightly. "Very well, we'll do it your way." She began walking again. "...human."

He glared at her, and began walking again.


	29. Night's Past Shown Light

Being in the world of the living was still new to Rosethorne. In the lands of the dead there was normally silence, broken occasionally by the ghosts of certain animals, or wraiths living out their unlives. Here though, sounds and smells of insects, birds, animals, even trees filled her ears and nose. The chaos and messiness of life itself at first seemed to accost her senses, but she was growing used to it once more. She remembered that long ago, as a little girl, she had lived here on the surface. She had spent many long years hearing how the messiness, illness, and chaos of life was far inferior to the silence and peace of death, and had even begun to believe it herself.

Now though, seemingly innocuous things such as a bird's call to his mate, deer crashing through the brush in the distance, even the irritation of insects attempting to bite her seemed refreshing. The breezes carried interesting smells; even the feel of the wind on her face was something she realized that she had forgotten about, and had even missed, to a degree.

The Solar was walking next to her. At first, she had marched as she normally would have while on a campaign. To her surprise, he had managed to keep up for quite a few hours. He was looking around calmly, not even breathing heavily. Their pace had slowed over the past few hours to a pleasant walking speed, just taking in the sights. He hadn't spoken after that incident with the bandits. It was strange; it was as if he wasn't comfortable being an Exalt, as if he were trying to put all his experiences in the context of still being human. Had she ever been that naive?

No, from the moment that thrice-accursed soul had begun to share her body and begin to bond to her, she was taught to use it, with the implication being that she was no longer human, and never could be. Five long years of campaigning, warfare, and fighting had reinforced this beyond anything else. Barring falling in battle, her new longevity, resistance to diseases and poisons, and accelerated healing had brought this fact home to her many times.

That war with the forces of the Yozi had brought this fact home harder than anything else. Given normal circumstances, a force of two hundred and fifty soldiers plus her against a force of more than a thousand hungry and sadistic creatures would have been a lost cause. Before that battle, she hadn't used the dark essence within her much. She had been forced to, lest she and the rest of her force fall to those hateful things. Her entire being sung with the dark energy coursing through her as she repeatedly drew upon it. The outcome of the battle was something not even she had expected, as she and her army held the line against these devouring, hungry things, and forced them backwards those long fifteen miles into Oblivion.

Her hands clenched together as she walked as she remembered coming home from that battle. She was tired and wounded as she came home with the remnants of her force, though exultant. They had won. There was a terrible price they paid, but they had won.

That was the reason she felt so little remorse for turning rogue, as she supposed she was now. She had returned to her Lord's castle and received derision and torture for her "failure" of losing so much of her force to an enemy five times her army's size. She had fought harder than she ever had in her life, knowing that the price of failure was torture and death at the hands of either the Yozi force, or her own Lord if she managed to return. However, she'd won, and was still tortured afterwards. Her anger over this had been the first thing to show through the stone-like emotional armor she wore, and had paved the way for other things now, as well.

That was the important question - if she could go back and take her place once more, would she? She had to admit that neither yes nor no came upon her instantly, though she knew she was definitely leaning toward the negative.

She looked to the path ahead, through the slowly descending evening air, and saw a town in the distance, the setting sun illuminating the town from behind. She glanced to her left, observing Kale striding purposefully toward the town, and saw him slow to a stop. She stopped as well, and looked at him expectantly, hoping he would explain his decision to stop. Thankfully, she wasn't disappointed.

"I just realized. You can't sleep in a proper inn, can you?" He looked at her, somewhat bemused by this realization.

She shook her head. "You go right ahead, I'll sleep out here." This was the first time in quite a while that she'd felt as if she were...a liability to someone else.

He quirked an eyebrow at her. "Nah, I'm not that mean. Let's go to the tavern and see what news there is, and we can make camp outside town afterwards."

Why was he being so accommodating? Her eyes narrowed slightly, before giving voice to her suspicions. "Do you think I'm unable to care for myself, that you have to look after me? Or is it that I'm of better use to you close by?"

He closed his eyes and sighed before opening his eyes again. He began to look exasperated. "Why are you being so constantly suspicious? It seems like every time I'm polite or courteous, you suspect me of trying to sell you into slavery, or something equally foul."

She raised an eyebrow of her own, looking into his eyes. "Aren't you?"

From the way his mouth hung open for a moment, his eyes open wide in shock it seemed as if he was either a remarkably good actor, or was genuinely hurt and annoyed. "No! No, I'm not trying to sell you to anyone, I'm not planning on stabbing you in your sleep, I'm not planning on forcing myself upon you, I'm not planning on robbing you, I'm not helping you for any other reason other than I was asked to by someone I've grown to trust. Okay?"

He crossed his arms, and turned to the side, not looking at her, staring instead at the town ahead. The expression on his tanned skin was cold, and with more than a hint of anger.

Rosethorne tilted her head to the side slightly, as she normally did when curious, and thinking about something. She spoke up again, this time with no suspicion in her voice. "Who?"

His gaze whipped back toward her, and he spoke with a clipped voice. "What?"

She repeated her question, in a slightly softer tone. "Who asked you to help me, and why?"

He closed his eyes, and rubbed one hand over his face, looking quite tired suddenly. He finished shortly, and looked at her with a slightly hunted look. "You'd never believe me if I told you. Please just drop it, okay?"

She kept looking at him calmly, and steadily. There had to be something else. "Is there another reason?"

He turned to look at her, a little surprised. His look of surprise quickly turned into another tired look. He seemed to answer reluctantly. "Yeah."

She just stared at him expectantly. "Well?"

Kale looked slightly annoyed now. "You remind me of a childhood friend, okay?"

A childhood friend, hmm? Interesting. "Which reason is the main one?"

He took another deep breath before answering. "Because the person whom I've grown to trust asked me to. The reason I don't have too much of a problem with it is because you remind me of that childhood friend, and because you don't get on my nerves." In a softer tone of voice, he added, "Much."

He turned to look her again in the eyes, looking calmer now. "Okay, I've answered your question. Now for mine: why are you willing to tag along and let me help you as I have?"

Rosethorne blinked. She hadn't expected that, though she supposed she should have, especially given who was asking the question. "Simply because you offered your help, and haven't given reason to distrust you yet. I'm still waiting for you to give me a reason to not trust you."

Kale raised an eyebrow of his own, looking slightly shocked. "What, you want me to steal your clothes while you sleep or something?"

As much as she tried to suppress it, a smile began to play around the corners of her mouth. "Yes, that would be a good start. Though rest assured, such a thing would not go unpunished."

He looked a bit more calm now, after seeing her reaction. A smile began around the corners of his mouth as well, now. "You mean, I'd be chased around the night-time countryside by a naked woman? People might think I stole more than your clothes."

She chuckled silently, her shoulders and chest shaking as she did so. Well, that was one good thing about this strange man: he made her laugh. "If that were the case, I'd take back more than my clothes from you."

He nodded knowingly, still smiling slightly. "I completely understand. My clothes would probably fit you better than my father's do."

She shook her head at him, still smiling and chuckling slightly. "Shall we just go, and continue this conversation later?"

He nodded, giving her a lopsided smile as he turned back to the road and began walking again, keeping pace with her.

It was curious, he didn't seem to be faking any of his emotions, and hadn't lied to her yet, as far as she could tell. Why, though? Well, she wouldn't give him her trust, it was simple as that. It would be far easier to deal with him later when he betrayed her, as everyone else seemed to have done. It was curious though, how he seemed to be so reluctant to say much about who had asked him to save her life, and why. Why was he trying to hide this?

She decided to think about this later, as they reached the town gates. She hid a smile as she saw the two guards at the gate, remembering what happened the last time she had last seen guards in front of a town's gates. Had it only been a few days?

"Halt, and state your business in Ayodha." The guard sounded far more bored than officious.

Kale stepped forward, smiling. "Hey, Gab. My friend and I wanted to spend an hour or two in the tavern before moving on again."

The guard who'd spoken looked a bit more closely at Kale, before breaking into a smile of recognition. "Well hello, Kale! It's been a while, what're you doing here?" He looked at Rosethorne, giving her a brief and curious look. "And who's your lady friend?"

Kale smirked. "She and I are just here to see the sights before moving on again tonight."

The guard, whose name apparently was Gab, chuckled. "What's the matter, the lady doesn't want to spend the night in a bed?"

Kale smiled again. "Something like that, yeah."

Both guards broke into laughter. "She sounds like she's perfect for ya, Kale. Go right in, and have a drink on me!"

Kale chuckled, and walked inside, Rosethorne walking at his side, trying her best not to glare at him until out of earshot of the guards. Kale turned around, and waved at the guards who'd let them in. "Thanks again, Gabrin. See ya around!"

The moment they were out of earshot, Rosethorne grabbed his arm and spun him around to face her, her ice-blue eyes boring angrily into his dark brown ones. She spoke softly, but with a heavy undercurrent of anger. "What have you to gain by making them think you and I are friends, let alone lovers? Why didn't you bother to correct them?"

Kale gently grabbed her hand, looking her in the eyes, holding her hand briefly before letting it drop at her side. She was again momentarily surprised by how warm his hands were. "For one thing, explaining how you and I came to know each other would take a lot longer than how long we spent talking to them. You and I both know we're not friends, or anything more, and I didn't say anything differently. They just assumed, and let the matter drop."

She still felt a little angry about this. "Why didn't you just tell them that we aren't together?"

He raised an eyebrow. "We're not?"

She took a breath, which helped to calm her. "I meant romantically involved, as they seemed to assume."

He chuckled quietly, looking briefly back at the guards. "Because if we'd stayed and I told them that, we would have been there much longer than we were, attracting that much more attention to ourselves. Besides, those two think I've nailed every single woman in this town and a few others."

Her eyes narrowed slightly at him. "Have you?"

He looked at her, uncomprehending. "Have I what?"

She began to feel a little annoyed. "Have you been romantically involved with every single woman in this town and beyond?"

He looked a little amused at her question, before looking a little sheepish. "No. Not even close."

She just raised an eyebrow, staring into his eyes with arms crossed. He rolled his eyes at her. "Why the sudden interest into my love life?"

She continued staring at him for a moment before answering. "Curiosity." From what Rosethorne had seen, he hadn't stared at her in a way to suggest that he was interested in her, or anything else silly and pointless. But she had seen a strange look in his eyes from time to time, suggesting there was something he was thinking about that was more than what was mentioned.

He smiled slightly. "Fine, I'll answer, but you have to answer your own question. Fair's fair."

She tilted her head slightly to the side, her arms still crossed. "Very well. After we conclude our business here and find a place to sleep, I'll tell you."

He shrugged in acknowledgement. "Alright."

They walked together into the tavern. Rosethorne, having never been into a bar or a tavern was quite surprised to see him willingly remove his bow, quiver and sword, and hang them on a simple wooden peg. He looked at her without saying anything, though the message was pretty obvious. She reluctantly untied her scimitar from around her waist, and hung it and her claw and gauntlet with it on the peg next to the one that held his weapons.

He smiled slightly, and indicated she walk in front of him into the tavern. She shrugged and did so, finding a relatively quiet place in the back, and beginning to walk toward it. She was halfway there when she heard someone hailing her companion.

"Kale? Kale! Is that you?"

She turned around to look at her companion and the person who'd hailed him, seeing that the gruff and deep voice belonged to an older man, with silvering and thinning hair. Kale smiled in recognition. "Drannid! How've you been?"

The man stood up, and clasped Kale's hand, his craggy face breaking into a grin. "Aye lad, I've been better, but I've been a lot worse, too. Come, sit down! The lass with ye is more than welcome to share the table of this old soldier as well." He chuckled, sitting down, and indicating the two seats near him.

Kale sat down in the chair next to the man, Rosethorne sitting in the other available chair, across the small tavern table from the old soldier.

Kale extended a hand toward her, and introduced them. "Drannid, this is my friend Rosethorne. She and I are just traveling where our feet take us for now. Rosethorne, this is my father's old friend Drannid. They served together in the 317th Immaculate Talon."

Rosethorne nodded to the old soldier, and was somewhat surprised to see him stand and extend a hand to her. She extended her right hand, and he clasped it in a warm and kindly handshake. "I'm pleased tae meet ye, lass. Anyone Kale calls friend is a friend of mine."

She nodded, and glanced quickly at Kale before replying. "Likewise. I'm pleased to meet you as well." She took her seat once more.

Rosethorne shifted her senses to perceive the flows of essence more easily, and found none swirling within the grizzled old soldier. A human who willingly served in an army of Dragon-Blooded. Very curious, she thought.

"Ah'm right glad to see ye, lad. I heard about what happened tae Thorns, and after not hearing from ye or yer mater and pater for seven years, I admit tae gettin' a bit worried."

Kale looked down, staring at the table, his face emotionless. "They...died. The Contagion took my mom, and my dad died seven years later, after making sure I was ready to be alone."

The grizzled old campaigner shook his head. "Did ye do that ritual that's supposed tae make sure the dead rest in peace?"

Kale nodded, still downcast at the memory, apparently unaware that Rosethorne was looking at him curiously for lamenting the passing of the living. It was the natural order of things. Wasn't it? He paused a moment before replying. "Yeah, my father performed the ritual on my mom after she died, and I did the ritual for him after he passed."

Why was there such pain in his eyes as he spoke about this? What was this "Contagion" he spoke of, the capital letter in the name evident even in his speech?

Drannid nodded, equally downcast. "Ah remember yer pater well, lad. Kreegan was one of the best soldiers I've ever fought with, an' that's no lie. We were all a bit surprised when his tour o' duty was up, and he didn't re-enlist. He jus' grabbed his new wife, said goodbye tae all of us, and left without so much as a backward glance."

Drannid shook his head, lost in the memory. "Ah can understand why he did, though. Alia was the best thing tae ever happen tae him, and he knew it. He knew that he didn't want her as an old war wife, waitin' for her husband to nae come home one day from a campaign."

Drannid looked briefly at Rosethorne, and back to Kale before smiling slightly. "Ah'm glad tae see ye safe, lad. I've been hearin'...things happening around that ol' rickety cabin you three called home. They say Thorns has been taken over by a bunch of...undead things, the likes of which haven't been seen aroun' these parts for decades."

He looked around, to make sure there would be nobody to overhear them. Satisfied that he had seen none, he continued in a lower voice. "They say there's somethin' worse out there, somethin' the Immaculate Guard still hasn't found. From the whispers Ah've heard from the soldiers who've come through here, there's been a shadow...thing loose. Whatever it is, it led a large army of skeletons and rotting corpses that fought madly against two Talons of the Immaculate Guard, the second being all Dragon-Blooded soldiers, hard-nosed blighters at that. They say that though the undead army was decimated by the second Talon, who luckily had a few sorcerers in their ranks, the shadow thing that led them still managed tae slay half o' them by itself, including both sorcerers before one o' the soldiers managed to land a hit on it with his mace. They never found where it fell though, an' they scoured the canyon for days, lookin' for footprints, drag marks, anythin', but hadn't found a single trace."

Drannid sat back, shaking his head as he took a sip of his tankard. "The talk amongst the foot soldiers is tha' it jus' melted back intae the shadows from which it came, but the higher-ups ain't so sure. They felt it use essence during the battle, and lots of it. They think it was an Anathema, and one of the darker ones at that."

He shook his head as he took another small pull from his tankard. Rosethorne, for her part, was keeping a straight face with valiant effort. She hadn't known that she had slain a full half of the second Talon, but then again, she hadn't been keeping count.

"The worst part is that they haven't found the Anathema yet, and it has them scared. They won't admit it in public or anythin', but an undead emiss'ry from Thorns came tae the camp outside the town where the Immaculates have the undead within bottled up, and politely asked what they'd like in exchange for one o' their fallen generals. The Immaculate Guard said they didn't have any prisoners, and the thing thanked them politely and went back into town."

Drannid shook his head, and took a deep breath. "So, whatever it is seems tae be loose, an' unaccounted for." He chuckled sourly. "It seems tae be one thing the accursed undead and the Guard have in common - they're both a little concerned that one of the undead generals is missing."

Kale chuckled slightly at the joke, and Rosethorne smiled ruefully at the irony. The old campaigner leaned back in his chair, smiling now. "Ach, enough o' doom an' gloom this eve. There're enough things tae depress ye for life, if ye keeps yer mind on 'em. How'd ye meet this lass, Kale?" He grinned at the both of them, glancing between the two.

Kale blushed slightly. "I met her a few days ago, actually. I saved her life, and she's just tagging along with me until she figures out where she wants to go."

The old man smiled at Rosethorne, his craggy face splitting into a grin. "Ah saw ye carryin' a blade intae the tavern, lass. Can ye use it well?"

Rosethorne met his gaze, staring at him evenly. "Oh, I can use it. The only reason I needed him to save my life was because I got overwhelmed."

The old campaigner chuckled again. "Ah don' mean any insult, lass. Ye look like the type of woman who's used to a blade. Min' if Ah sees yer weapon hand?"

She smiled slightly. "Which one?"

Drannid roared with laughter. "A fiesty one! Yer swordhand, lass."

She smiled a bit wider, and placed her pale hand on the table, palm-up. Drannid looked at it carefully, nodding once he was done. "Aye, that be the hand of one used tae a blade, alright." He laughed a bit more. "Ah I haven't seen callouses like that on half the soldiers Ah've fought with!"

Rosethorne smiled, and nodded graciously. "Thank you."

Kale stood, smiling at both of them. "Sorry Drannid, but she and I really have to get going, before they lock the gates for the night."

Drannid grinned, and stood himself, offering his hand to both Kale and Rosethorne, shaking both their hands warmly. "Kale, lad, Ah'm right glad tae see you're alive and well. Rosethorne, lass, Ah'm honored tae meet ye. Fare ye both well."

They both wished him goodnight, Kale buying him another tankard of beer before they left the town. The guards were unfamiliar to Kale, and inquired why they wanted to leave so late. Kale's answer that they needed to get an early start on their journey seemed to satisfy them, and the guards let them pass into the plains beyond.

They had walked in silence for nearly half an hour, the descending darkness not bothering either of them unduly. Rosethorne was turning over the evening's conversation she'd had with Kale's father's companion in arms, thinking more about this "Contagion" that had claimed his parents, and many more, if she caught the implication correctly. She had known that before she had been Exalted, the Mask of Winters had done something to soften the town up for later conquest, though she never found out what. Now, she had a definite suspicion. It made tactical sense to her for such a thing, though it was a bit dishonorable.

Her companion was growing more and more strange, and a bit more intriguing as well as the days passed. There seemed to always be another mystery to him, another puzzle to solve with him. Well, if nothing else, it helped pass the time they spent walking.

Kale stopped abruptly, with her smoothly following suit, and looking askance at him.

"Half of a Talon by yourself?" The look on his face was a mixture of surprise and shock.

She just smiled at him, and continued walking.


	30. Crossing Blades Crosses Memories

Half a Talon. That's about one hundred fifty soldiers. Kale blinked and shook his head slightly as he walked, still trying to get over the shock of it. He certainly hadn't known she'd managed to get a body count that high, but then again, it was a little hard to keep track during the battle.

And yet here was the same woman, dressed in casual, dark-colored clothes that once belonged to his father, her long ebon hair flowing gently behind her like a short cloak, her ice-blue eyes darting in all directions as she kept her head firmly facing front.

But on the other hand, there were many other facets to this woman, as he'd come to see. He'd glanced over at her before as they walked, seeing her staring off into the distance, her mind really not on the path ahead. From her subtle body language, she seemed to be lost in thought quite often. Her hands would clench and unclench as she did so, as if remembering something that angered her, though she never spoke of anything.

On the other hand, she seemed to be nearly paranoid of anyone using or abusing her, which explained her aloofness toward him, and everyone else she'd met. Well, given the company she kept before he met her that fateful night, Kale had an inkling of why she felt as she did, especially if those two Abyssals were any indication.

He smelled the wild sage as they walked in silence, mixed in with fainter scents of ferns, and evergreen shrubs on the plains, mixed with the boring smell of grass.

Night had fully fallen on the plains outside the town of Ayodha. The moon was hiding her face this evening, revealing the delicate stream of stars in the sky above, forming a soft band of stars that continued across the sky. He stopped, his face to the sky, just admiring the view, and trying to remember the old traveller's constellations his father taught him, and beginning to find them.

He heard her footsteps come to a halt soon after his did. He didn't look at her at first, as he'd almost found the Spear, the Father Lion, The Lion Cub, and a few others. He looked down to see his companion after a moment, seeing her face to the sky as well. The stars faintly illuminated her pale face, which seemed to be surrounded by a shadowy cloak of her long, straight ebon hair. She looked down and over toward him after a few moments, giving him a look he couldn't quite decipher. She spoke in a off-hand way. "Is here where we should make camp?"

He nodded, pulling off his satchel and grabbing his bedroll. "You know, I have a love/hate relationship with the plains country. I love the plains because you can see for miles in every direction."

She nodded as she pulled out her own bedroll, and began unrolling it on the soft earth. She looked up at him after a moment, a slight hint of curiosity on her face. "And why do you hate the plains?"

He smiled, as she had walked neatly into his trap. "I hate them because you can see for miles in every direction. No fire tonight, I'm afraid."

She smirked as she removed her armored shoes and lay down on her bedroll, staring up into the sky. Kale rolled his eyes. "Sure, I'll take first watch."

She didn't move her eyes from the sky above, seemingly fascinated in the patterns the tiny pinpricks of light made in the night-time heavens above. "I'm not going to sleep yet," she said in a somewhat distracted voice.

He shrugged, and squinted his eyes in every direction. Seeing nothing out of the ordinary, he relaxed a little, and took off his overcoat. Looking to his right, and seeing her eyes now closed, he relaxed a little more. He decided to grab his new sword, and practice with it a bit. As usual, it grew and altered form as he drew it from its sheath, forming into a sword very similar to the large greatsword his father had trained him with.

He studied the blade, now solid in form. He studied the elegant, slowly curving single-edged blade, and how it joined the small hilt and long handle at the perfect length and weight. He walked a few yards away from where his companion slept, and began practicing with it.

Slash forward, follow through, slash at the shoulder, follow through, slash behind, come to a ready stance. It seemed to be nearly a reflex now, to follow through with this pattern. Slash up, bring the blade around, slash back down, follow through, slash at the neck, follow through, come to a ready stance. His body continued these motions automatically, as his mind drifted.

He saw an image of Melia's smiling face in his mind's eye, and smiled inwardly. He realized that he hadn't really even thought much about Melia, or her surprising silence for the past few days, being more immediately concerned for the bloodthirsty (literally) Abyssal who now seemed to be his companion.

" _Hey, you._ "

He smiled a bit wider now, and replied in his mind. "Hello yourself. Why've you been so silent?"

He got an image of her smiling softly, and then saw an image of the sleeping Abyssal in his mind's eye. "You've been quiet because of...her?"

A warm feeling. This was certainly confusing. "Okay, why?"

There was a pause, and then he saw an image of Rosethorne from a little further away. His vision seemed to shift, to perceive the flows of essence, and he saw the dark, shadowy essence flowing slowly through her, seeming to chill her body like ice water. He looked a little closer, and saw a ghostly outline of...another shadowy thing within her, vaguely humanoid-shaped. The darker essence seemed to flow in and out of this second thing. Kale's jaw dropped, as he saw a brief flash of a bright golden glow from part of the second being, before it was concealed once again by shadow.

At first, he didn't quite understand what he was seeing. However, the more he looked, and studied the imagery, it began to make sense. "The second...thing in her, is that her Essence?"

A warm feeling. "So, it hasn't bonded to her completely, I take it?"

Another warm feeling. "Okay, what's that brief flash of gold I keep seeing every once in a while on her Essence, through the shadows?"

A brief image of the morning sun, just breaking past the horizon.

He was confused for a moment, but then his eyes widened in realization as he finished the first kata again without even being aware of it. "You mean...her Essence is a little bit Solar?"

A cold feeling. He got an image of a small, glowing sun, suddenly smothered by shadows, and dark material. The material was wet, and seemed to seep into the small glowing ball of golden light, dimming it, changing it into something much darker. However, the shadows and dark material couldn't completely conceal and consume the glowing light.

His eyes narrowed in confusion. "Is that normal, for an Abyssal? Do their Essences always retain some of their former Solar selves?"

A cold feeling. "...Oh." He paused for a moment. "You mean that there are three reasons you're so pleased I'm still letting her tag along?"

A feeling of...curiosity. Questioning.

He struggled to put what he felt and saw into speech-like thoughts. "Well, you mentioned that this lady's Essence is your husband, after he was corrupted and became an Abyssal Essence, right?"

A warm feeling.

"Okay, and secondly, her Essence hasn't bonded to her and let itself go after the five years she's been Exalted, right?"

Another warm feeling, accompanied by a brief image of Melia smiling. Roguishly.

"And lastly, he hasn't been completely corrupted, is that right?"

Another warm feeling, this time accompanied by her smiling warmly at him. Proudly, even.

His eyes narrowed as he began the second kata with his sword again without really even realizing it. "Is there another reason you encouraged me to stay with her, and save her life?"

He heard her familiar chuckling. " _You stayed with her on your own, Kale, just as I hoped you would._ "

Kale began to feel a bit manipulated. "Wait a minute..."

She interrupted, with a calming and slightly apologetic voice. " _What I mean is, I have more reasons than just those. She is...familiar to you, in a way I cannot say. Your subconscious mind recognizes her, though._ "

His eyebrows knitted together as he thought furiously. Was this why she reminded him of a childhood friend he had known long ago? He couldn't remember much about that little girl he had known as a child, which began to bother him. He remembered being so sad that she and her family were leaving. He also remembered running after her family's caravan, waving goodbye as they left. It was the first time he had ever really cried, that he could remember. But why couldn't he remember more?

"Have you been practicing your form the entire time I've been asleep?" Her low voice seemed to break through his concentration, causing him to slow, and stop, before quite realizing why he had, until Rosethorne spoke again.

"I don't mean to nitpick on your form, but you've been doing the same two katas for the past two hours." There was a hint of...amusement in her voice.

Kale shrugged, nonchalantly. "It helps me think."

She sat up, nodding as she looked at him calmly and steadily. "I can't sleep. Its too...bright out here." She paused a moment, looking at him with her head slightly tilted to the side. "Spar with me."

Kale looked at her, raising an eyebrow, before shrugging in resignation. He removed his bracer from his left arm, and threw it on his opened bedroll. She looked askance at him, but he only shrugged. "Making things fair, is all." She nodded, giving the bracer one last curious look before unsheathing her scimitar and standing in one fluid motion. She strode purposefully toward him, until they were five feet away, her bare feet making slight rustling noises in the slightly wet grass around them. She looked him calmly in the eyes before asking. "Rules?"

He thought for a moment, before hiding a smile as he came to a realization. "Alright, stop at first blood each time. The person drawing the blood may ask the person so blooded a question that must be answered fully, truthfully, and honestly."

Her eyebrows rose slightly, though she nodded in agreement before dropping smoothly into a strange ready stance, holding the blade in her right hand, the flat of the blade against her left shoulder. "Agreed. Anything else?"

Kale settled into his own ready stance, facing her from his side, the long blade resting lightly on his right shoulder, his left arm dangling at his side. "Yes. Rotes or Charms are off-limits. This is a contest of skill only."

Rosethorne nodded, and both stood motionless for a few seconds, waiting for the other person to make the first move. Neither did for what seemed like several long seconds, but Rosethorne took a quick hop forward, slashing out viciously with her scimitar. He managed to parry the strike by bringing his sword down on her neck, and parrying her backswing at the same time. A thin trickle of blood ran from her neck as he stood back, smiling. "Point."

She felt her neck, and frowned slightly. Kale was a little surprised, though not much, to see that there was no blood when she took her hand away. "Very well. Ask away."

He dropped back into a ready stance, and thought for a moment, and she looked impassively at him. There, that would be a good one to start with, since he didn't know how many more chances he'd get. "Why were you so concerned about those guards thinking that you and I were romantically involved?"

She tilted her head slightly to the side, pausing a moment before answering. "I was attempting to ascertain your intentions toward me; trying to see if you were trying to get me used to the idea before you tried something foolish. If you really had romantic relations with most of the women of the town and beyond, your intentions toward me would be more obvious."

Kale chuckled at this, which she raised an eyebrow at. "Alright, ready?" She nodded, her eyes not leaving his. She sprang forward again like a hungry wolf, which he parried desperately. It was a little difficult to see her blade in the darkness, as the blade she wielded did not reflect light of any kind, looking like a grim corporeal shadow in the night-time gloom. He parried quickly and desperately, thinking he was safe and keeping up with her for the moment, before she sprang back, with a slightly triumphant look on her face. He felt a little...drained as well. Rosethorne smirked at him. "Point."

Kale's eyebrows raised slightly, and he couldn't help but ask. "Where did you hit me?"

Rosethorne's eyes looked at his neck, before looking back into his eyes, and smiling a bit more widely. He felt his neck, and felt a thin, shallow cut on his neck, on the exact same place he had managed to cut her the first time. His eyes narrowed. Oh, she was good, alright. "Alright, what's your question?"

Her head tilted slightly to the side as she maintained eye contact with him. Her neck straightened as she answered. "What is this 'Great Contagion' you mentioned that took your parents to their rest?"

Kale narrowed his eyes at her, suspicious. "You worked for the guy who did it. I thought you knew already."

She shook her head. "It was released seven years ago, was it not?"

Kale nodded, still suspicious.

She regarded him calmly as she explained. "I've been an Abyssal for the past five years. It happened before my time, and I'd never heard anything about it until last night."

He nodded, thinking about all he knew about the sickness that had stolen the life from his mother, and the will to live from his father. He closed his eyes and took a breath to clear his mind before he answered. "As far as I was told, there were two that were released. One, at the beginning of the Second Age, spread throughout the world and claimed nine out of every ten people."

Kale paused, as he kept his voice steady. "The second time was around Thorns, about seven years ago. My mother caught it, and withered away so quickly. My father lost his will to live afterwards, making sure that I was ready and educated enough to deal with things on my own before he joined my mother in death."

Her eyes narrowed thoughtfully. Kale could tell there was another question on the tip of her tongue, but she withheld it. "Ready?"

He nodded, and relaxed a bit more into his ready stance. Just as she seemed to dive toward him, he darted quickly to the side, and clipped her on the other side of her neck. She stopped, and felt the blood again, and whirled around, looking slightly annoyed. She took her hand away after a moment, and Kale was no longer surprised to see that there was no blood. "I didn't expect that. Your question?"

He smiled slightly as he asked the question that had been bothering him ever since she agreed to come along with him. "You've mentioned your suspicions about me and my motives many times, though you never really mentioned why you're willing to come along with me anyway. Why is that?"

She smiled tightly. "I told you, I still owe you my life. Until that debt is repaid, I'm willing to journey with you." She paused for a moment, as if making a decision. "I was and still am suspicious of your motives in helping me as you have, though you've given me no reason to distrust you. Finally, your nature intrigues me."

Kale looked a little surprised at her frankness, though he was privately pleased to see that she was, at least, playing by the rules. They quickly settled back into their stances, and prepared for another round. It was over with swiftly, with him suddenly on his back, the point of her blade under his chin. She was smiling slightly, as she uttered the word. "Point."

He got up, and dusted himself off as he waited for her question. He didn't have to wait long at all. "Why does the death of your parents wear on you so?"

Kale took a deep breath. Thinking about it, even now, was a little painful. "If they had died of natural causes, even by an accident or a normal illness, it wouldn't have hurt me so much. Knowing that the illness that claimed by mother directly and my father indirectly had been created and loosed intentionally makes it much worse." He looked at her steadily. "And knowing that it was your former boss that did it makes me angry, and has made me suspect your motives."

She nodded, staring off into space briefly, as she digested this. She nodded after a moment, and assumed a ready stance again, Kale following suit. They closed again in a blur of orichalcum and soulsteel, which ended with a slashing lunge from her that hit nothing but air, with his blade resting against her neck once again. He smiled grimly, knowing that he was going to have to make his successes count. "Point."

Rosethorne sighed softly, glaring at him slightly before she rested the point of her scimitar in the dirt, looking at him expectantly. He thought for a moment, somewhat curious as to why she hadn't asked about who had asked him to help her, and other questions he'd evaded her on in their brief past. "What's the reason you seem so taken with the idea of not going back to your boss, aside from owing me your life?"

She looked at the stars above while taking a deep, silent breath. Rosethorne's gaze returned to meet him in the eyes as she answered, haltingly at first. "The battle I was in before I came to the surface is the reason I don't really wish to go back."

Rosethorne looked at the stars again, as if searching for answers in the faint starlight that illuminated her pale face. "My battalion was ordered to halt a Yozi advancement into my Lord's lands. When we arrived, we saw quickly that they outnumbered us five to one. I was the only Exalt in my battalion, though there were ten amongst their foul and carniverous ranks. We fought for hours; I was fighting harder than I ever had before in my life." She paused again, as if lost in the memory for a moment. "We won. We paid a terrible price; only a third of my battalion remained alive afterwards. But we won."

She looked him in the eyes again. She looked...tired from the memory. "When I returned, I was called a failure for losing so many troops, and tortured for it."

Kale's jaw dropped, his eyes open wide at the thought. His jaw snapped shut once he realized he was gaping, and shook his head wonderingly. "Is that normal for where you used to live?"

She smiled tightly at him. "You'll need to score another mark on me if you want to ask that and get an answer."

He nodded, and dropped into a ready stance once more. This continued for several more hours, though he could count on two hands the number of times he'd scored a point after that. Curiously, she'd left the question of who had asked him to help her unasked, though she did ask him about many other things.

Kale had also discovered that every time she scored a mark on him, the soulsteel of her scimitar drained a little bit of his essence. He'd found out that in the hands of an Abyssal, this was normal for soulsteel. That thought made him shudder slightly, though it made sense, given what she told him about how Children of Oblivion couldn't really eat or regain their essence in the lands above, relying on other methods to keep themselves sated.

Part of the reason he'd scored so few marks on her, despite his natural agility, was because she began licking his blood off her blade after she'd scored a mark on him, her eyes meeting his as she did so. Kale admitted that part of him was a little intrigued by it, but for the most part, it was just outright creepy. He also suspected that she kept doing it because she knew it rattled him. Evil wench.

However, as the sun was beginning to illuminate the Eastern horizon, he had managed to score a hit on her. She looked surprised, though expectantly waited for him to ask his question. He took his time, weighing his options, which he knew made her impatient. Finally, he asked. "You've mentioned honor a few times. What value do you place on honor?"

Rosethorne regarded him steadily through her ice-blue eyes, a few strands of her ebon hair covering part of one eye. "Honor is the most important thing. After all is said and done, how honorable a person is dictates how they should be treated by others."

She glanced at the Western horizon, which was beginning to brighten with the impending sunrise. She smirked slightly. "So much for sleeping in shifts."

He nodded, smiling slightly. "Want to call it quits for now?" He wasn't about to admit it out loud, but he was tired. Despite needing less sleep than before, sleeping was still one of the comforts of life that he loved very much, and being deprived of it made him irritable.

She regarded him curiously for a moment, with her head tilted slightly to the side before nodding. "Take your rest. I'll wake you in six hours."

He raised an eyebrow at this, and she gave him a slightly amused look. "No harm shall come to you while you slumber. You have my word."

Kale nodded. He didn't really trust her, despite how much he'd learned about her and her way of life in the Underworld. However, it was either extending a measure of trust to her and hope she didn't abuse it, or leave her alone on the plains as he took his rest where he knew he would be safe.

He sighed, and took off his boots and weapons before moving into his bedroll, and putting a spare shirt of his over his eyes to block out the sun. Just to make sure, he used a little bit of essence to act as a stronger sixth sense, waking him if someone near where he slept intended him harm. He hoped it worked.


	31. Realizations of Dusk, Interruptions of Morning

Her scimitar hungered again, reflecting her own inner need. Her blade had tasted blood again, and to maintain her close link with the semi-intelligent scimitar, she had empathized with it by tasting the blood it had tasted as well. It almost seemed to vibrate with greed for more; for more essence, for more of the life-giving red liquid. It had been a while since she had really felt sated; the night where the five Immaculate fools had pressed the issue of her honor being the most recent time in her memory. She put her hunger out of her mind, for now.

Over the years, Rosethorne had learned quite a bit about the properties of the lifeblood thrumming within the living. More than the living truly realized, the blood carried with it their basic emotions felt at the time the blood was taken, and sometimes thoughts as well. She reflected back on how Kale's had tasted: powerful and skilled, though innocent. Wonder mixed with sadness, amusement tempered with curiosity, discomfort melded with a drive to explore and learn. She hadn't felt or tasted any duplicity from him. Despite her suspicions, he didn't seem to have an ulterior motive regarding her. In fact, he seemed to be accepting the situation more as surprise to adapt to, rather than a situation or person to use for his own ends. Was this a weakness, really? He didn't seem the type to exploit others for his own ends; in fact, he was amusingly uncomfortable not with the essence thrumming through his body, but with all that the essence implied and entailed. He was even slightly uncomfortable with the idea of killing, no matter the reason.

Rosethorne slowly polished and sharpened the blade, seemingly crafted of cold and distilled midnight as she thought. She was sitting cross-legged near where the Solar slept, keeping her eyes on her surroundings automatically. She looked at him with a note of curiosity as he lay cradled in the arms of sleep, one of his shirts wrapped around his eyes to prevent the bright sun from intruding on his dreams. He was breathing slowly, quietly, his right hand twitching slightly on his chest as he dreamed. She smiled slightly. Given his monkey-like tendencies, he'd probably be more comfortable sleeping in a tree.

He had acquiesced to the idea of sleeping for a few hours as she stood watch, though the warring sides of the decision were plainly visible in his eyes before he agreed. Did he agree because he foolishly trusted her? No, that didn't make sense, given his actions toward her. Could it be that he was saying yes as a gesture of trust toward her? To be willing to sleep near her to show that he was willing to trust her? That made more sense, and seemed much more likely. She had given him small overtures of trust before, by being willing to be clothed by garments left over from his parents, among other things.

So, it seemed to be deliberate, just as her actions had been. Both of them were on their guard around each other, but it seemed that both of them had realized trust could help more than it could hurt. They both seemed to know that only fools offer their trust freely. She smiled slightly. He was clever, though not as impulsive as she had first thought.

This strange young man was an enigma, it seemed. He was still practically a newborn Exalt, though he had an innate talent for channeling his essence properly. It had taken her two years to learn to comfortably channel her essence; the way he seemed to do almost as an afterthought. He was also quite good with that ungainly cleaver he called a sword. He had surprised her quite a few times with how deftly his blade had blooded her. Though she got a feel for how he fought after a little while and managed to beat him soundly, he still managed to tag her once more before they agreed to quit. It almost seemed that he had offered to stop as an exclamation point to his strike. Rosethorne smirked at this thought.

She stared off to the Western horizon, seeing the sun greet the world once more. Though at first she had despised the sun for its uncomfortable brightness, she had come to enjoy seeing it. Of course, she could never admit this, especially considering the nature of the Essence within her, so she treasured these recent moments in silence. Though Oblivion and the life-giving light of the sun seemed diametrically opposed, it had been many years since she had seen a sunrise. It seemed to strike a chord within her, though she couldn't say how or why.

As she stared at the slowly-brightening horizon, her thoughts drifted from their sparring to what she had learned about and from him as a result. His idea of asking questions as a victory note was an interesting one, and one that helped her learn quite a bit about this man. Given his rule about full and truthful answers and how she hadn't detected any falsehoods from him, what she had learned intrigued her.

She hadn't asked the questions that bothered her most, however. The questions that still remained unasked were regarding who had asked him to help her in the first place, and why he had accepted her offer of being his retainer, on the condition that she follow him not as a blade, but as a companion. His reluctance to answer in the past had given her pause, helping her reach the decision to leave those questions unspoken until the time seemed right. Bringing them up during a light-hearted contest of skill such as that seemed...a little impersonal for the nature of the questions. It seemed strange, but it also had to do with the slowly-growing respect she had for him. It had certainly been a while since she had felt or been given respect without fear being entwined with it.

Rosethorne had learned quite a bit about the man from all the times she had lightly split his flesh, however. She smirked to herself as she finished sharpening and polishing her scimitar. Though she wasn't really trying during the repeated duels, the inane urge to toy with him had asserted itself, coming out in the form of her licking her blade clean of his blood after scoring a mark on him. She remembered being somewhat coy about it a couple times, meeting his slightly shocked gaze through half-lidded eyes as she slowly licked his blood from her blade. Though she kept a straight face, it amused her to no end how much it seemed to rattle him. For a time, she was scoring points on him round after round less to ask a pointed question than to see his reaction after he'd been marked.

Rosethorne's shoulders shook as she chuckled silently. Seeing the look on his face the first time she had followed her impulse to do so was outright priceless. Even so, she'd learned quite a bit about the young Solar, including that he hadn't even been Exalted for a year yet. She would have been highly tempted to look down her nose at this, but for the unassailable facts of his natural skill and ability to use the essence within him. He hadn't had the time to learn the rote ways of using it as much as she had, though what he did know, he used skillfully, subtly; almost eloquently. Given time, he would become someone whom others should take into account warily, carefully, and fearfully.

His confidence in his own abilities sprang from all the things he'd learned as an ordinary human. Rosethorne looked downcast as she went over what he had told her of his childhood once more. His father and mother both had loved him dearly; that much was obvious. Kale had learned honor, respect, and intensity from a young age, the other skills of a hunter following suit. The way he made no noise as he walked, his skill with archery, his ability to track and make his own footprints trackless were all natural skills. The Solar required no essence to achieve these effects because of this, and that silently spoke volumes about him. She had known Deathknights who quickly became drunk with the heady power their Exaltation gave them, who arrogantly believed that their newfound abilities could substitute for good old-fashioned skill, rather than being a natural conclusion of it.

Kale seemed as reluctant to use his own essence as she was, though it was for very different reasons, she had found out a short time ago. She had admitted her dislike of using it when she didn't need to, as it coursed through her body as ice water might. He, on the other hand, seemed uncomfortable with his own abilities; his own natural power as an Exalt being something he felt he must hide. It was more than simply being as inconspicuous as possible as they traveled, as he had claimed a few times, despite the Dragon-Blooded paranoia of any Exalts other than themselves. There was more to it than this, but she hadn't asked what it was about his own status as a Child of the Sun that seemed to embarrass or shame him. She suspected Kale didn't know the reasons for this very well himself.

Rosethorne's mind drifted to introspection once more, as she thought about herself, and her own behavior as her companion slept nearby. She had laughed more than once in the past few days, something she could barely remember ever doing. For that matter, she had shown some of her emotions more and more over the past few days, something she hadn't done since a year after she Exalted. What was it about this man that made her feel safe enough to do so? Whatever it was, it made him dangerous. She knew that if he had even a slightly different personality, doing so would be an invitation for disaster. And yet, he hadn't judged her for doing so. He hadn't tried pushing her, cajoling her, or taunting her.

She smirked again. Well, apart from teasing her with no real malice meant, such as what he had said about "being introduced to the wrong ends of both mace and canyon wall," and retorting to her question about why he cooked his meat. If he did mean her harm, then he was being truly devious about hiding it. Her eyes narrowed slightly, as her smirk changed into a grim frown. However, pretending to be new to a situation and using one's pretended innocence as a tool of manipulation was an old trick. Not the oldest trick, but certainly one of the oldest. Though her heart felt some measure of peace and even a sense of...familiarity around him, her mind must be guarded. As her respect for his thoughts and actions slowly grew, she was careful to remain on her guard, and would remain so by necessity. After all, it had been her experience that nobody ever did a kindness for you unless they wanted something in return, though what they expected in return often was announced long afterward.

She looked at her sleeping companion again, his mouth open in a silent snore. Her task of cleaning and sharpening her weapons complete, she gazed silently at him, studying him as he slumbered. She had learned long ago that the most accurate way of deciphering a person's true personality was to watch them as they slept. Nightmares, unconscious movements, talking in their sleep; all these things were clues as to the personality normally hidden away while awake. Kale, however, had slept peacefully, his only movements being ones that made him more comfortable. Even the worries she had come to recognize as they crossed his face while he was awake were gone now. She smiled to herself. However, he really could use a shave. She doubted that he'd had much experience with a mirror.

She shook herself of her reverie, and studied the plains around them once more. The morning peace was disturbed only by an Immaculate patrol, but it was far off in the distance, and marching across the plains in a direction perpendicular to the two of them. This she considered a good thing, as she knew that though she was an eloquent speaker, this was the place Kale called home; he knew the customs, slang, and people around here far better than she. The ease with which he engaged in casual conversation had made her a little curious; she was far more used to giving or receiving orders, rather than the more equal terms a friendly conversation entailed.

Rosethorne's jaw set as she saw the patrol come to a halt, and as one look in her direction. She was quite tempted to wake Kale up, but that would be breaking her word to him. She had given her word of honor that he would sleep undisturbed for six hours, and he still had two hours left. She took a deep breath as she saw three of the soldiers break off from the main patrol and begin marching toward she and her sleeping companion.

Though she couldn't see into the distance quite as well as the Solar could, she could still make out details about the approaching soldiers. The one in the middle was slightly shorter than the other two, wore differently styled jade armor with no helmet, carried a long double-ended slashing spear, though there was a strange object strapped to the soldier's right leg. The other two were dressed in standard Immaculate infantry red jade heavy plate, with swords sheathed at their sides.

* * *

"Captain Altara, Corporals Byu, and Reinad, go check those two out. Move!"

Corporal Altara marched with and slightly ahead of the other two soldiers toward the strange pair on the plains. The new orders from on high were to check out anyone and everyone that seemed suspicious, which included any commoners rightfully leaving the area. It was a boring, thankless, and onerous job, but the reasons for it were valid: there was an Abyssal general missing in action, and it had evidently concerned the occupying undead force of Thorns so much that they actually made polite inquiries to the Immaculate guard about it.

No real information was available about this general; no name, no description. The only details she and her patrol were given was that this general was clad in all black, light-absorbing soulsteel armor. However, a helmet matching that description was found, along with a strange dust in a rough humanoid shape a few days ago, so the people in power were tentatively considering this general slain.

This bothered Captain Altara to a degree, as she knew that this general had slain quite a few of the soldiers all alone; a fact that the Immaculate hierarchy had attempted to keep quiet. Since the missing general had slain so many soldiers alone during the battle, Captain Ophelia Altara highly doubted that the general was laid low by five paltry green soldiers on patrol.

And yet, here she was, checking out two travelers leaving from the direction of Ayodha, heading southwest, and definitely away from Thorns and all the occupying Immaculate force. Understandable, though the direction they were traveling seemed a little odd; wouldn't they try going north, where there was a stronger Immaculate presence?

She marched along, the Corporals marching one step behind her, as procedure dictated. She studied the two figured as she marched. One, a woman with black hair and pale skin sitting upright, near another figure, who was lying prone. The sitting woman stood as Captain Altara approached, and seemed to be watching the approaching patrol with an appropriate amount of wariness and calm. She hailed the woman as they approached.

"Good morning, citizen. I see you're leaving Ayodha; where are you two off to?"

The woman looked into her eyes, seeming to fix her in place with a cold ice-blue stare. She replied after a moment, however. "Good morning, soldier. My companion and I are headed South, though I know not our ultimate destination."

Captain Altara nodded as the woman spoke, studying her with calculated disinterest. "I see, and your companion does, I take it?"

The woman stared evenly into her eyes for a moment. "Yes, and he is still asleep for the moment."

The Captain looked over to where the other figure was lying. Whoever it was seemed tall, though they had a shirt of some form over their face. This would normally concern her, but she saw the regular gentle rise and fall of the figure's chest. "I see. And what are you to your companion?"

The woman arched a single eyebrow, as if silently questioning her audacity for such a question. "I am his retainer."

Captain Altara raised an eyebrow of her own, after seeing that though the woman carried two weapons, a sword and a claw-like weapon, she wore no armor. She was careful not to let her gaze linger on the weapons, though noticed that the woman's sheathed sword was all black, as was the claw. How strange...if this was the general, where was the rest of her armor and army? And why was she a retainer of a single person? Given their appearance, these two had probably taken the weapons from the fallen general, as they were relatively near the area where the general's corpse was reportedly found. "I see. Very well, then. May you both enjoy a pleasant journey."

She bowed to the woman with her right hand covering her left fist. It was an elaborate gesture, and unnecessary in this situation, but old habits died hard. To her surprise, the woman returned the gesture with grace. Captain Altara nodded once in silent respect, turned her heel, and marched away, followed in relative silence by the soldiers accompanying her.

She returned to her Commander, who flared his anima of reddish, dancing flames around him. She saluted, though did not invoke her own anima, which she hoped her Commander would overlook.

"Report!" He barked at her. She replied quickly, lest he look askance at her lack of anima.

Still saluting calmly, she reported. "Two travelers, leaving from Ayodha as suspected, traveling northwest, destination unknown. The woman is the other traveler's retainer, who was still asleep."

He returned her salute in dismissal, looking grimly at her. In this fashion, she was actually pleased that he was treating her no differently that he would any other soldier, despite whispers of her ancestry. She felt that she was who she was, and who her mother happened to be was of no consequence to her ability as a soldier.

* * *

As Rosethorne sat back down and looked down at her companion, she realized that Kale had his eyes open, peeping through the folds of his shirt. He began sleepily rubbing his eyes, and looked at her once more, noticing that she was staring quietly into his eyes. "What, do I have a bee on me?"

Rosethorne smirked, and shook her head as she continued looking at him. "No, a soldier from that Immaculate Patrol decided to see if we were harmless." Rosethorne shook her head. "She didn't ask me why I had a soulsteel blade, and you had what appears to be a jade one. Her commanding officer seems lenient; I would have upbraided her for it."

Kale chuckled as he sat up. "Yeah, she sounded like a yapping foghorn, alright." He paused in rubbing the sleep from his eyes, and turned swiftly to look at her once again. "Wait a minute...I just realized something."

Rosethorne looked at him with her head tilted slightly to the side now, curious.

He stared at her with wide-open eyes, and his mouth hanging open for a few moments. She began to grow a little uncomfortable, narrowing her eyebrows at him. He finally spoke. "The soldiers walked away from here unmarked and unharmed. Are you getting sick?"

Rosethorne didn't know whether to laugh, or punch him. She ended up doing neither, considering a wintry glare to be sufficient. She was rewarded with an unrepentant grin from Kale as they began packing up their things.


	32. Night Caught By Dusk

Kale was still smiling a little as the two of them broke camp. Rosethorne was certainly proving to be an interesting companion, and in a good way. His rote to alert him if anyone wished him harm had been nothing but silent during the time he slept, which allowed him to get some rather restful sleep. This also meant that Rosethorne took her word of honor seriously. She had seemed rather serious about it before, but Kale thought it nice to have it confirmed.

She looked as she normally did, for the most part. She had that stone-faced expression as usual, though the corners of her mouth were quirked upward very slightly. She was proving to be an interesting puzzle, as only a few days ago, she seemed quite loathe to show any emotions at all. Perhaps the change of surroundings for her was ending up to be a good thing. Kale didn't want to brag, even to himself, but she had seemed slightly more relaxed now than when she asked to tag along with him. It was a good thing that she found his sense of humor amusing, as otherwise this would be a rather silent and tense trip.

Rosethorne turned her head slightly to face Kale and still keep an eye on the path ahead. "Did I guess correctly that we're traveling southwest?"

Kale answered as he was packing up his things. "Yes. There's one other of my father's friends that's still alive to my knowledge, and he evidently 'turned funny' recently. I wanted to see if this was true, to see who else knows my parents, but doesn't know what happened to them. He lives in Burning Shore."

He saw one of her eyebrows quirk out of the corner of his eye. He silently counted the seconds until she voiced her question. He didn't wait long. "'Burning Shore?' Is this desert city near the coastline?"

Kale's eyes narrowed as he tried to remember his geography. "No, it's actually a city in the middle of the desert lands."

The corners of her mouth quirked upward a little more, though not enough to be fully termed a smile. "You're willingly going someplace in the middle of the arid desert encouragingly named Burning Shore?"

He hid a smile as he looked straight ahead. "Yes. Yes, I am. The bright side of that place is that it's more or less considered neutral territory; the Immaculate lands down South are pretty sparse."

Rosethorne turned her head slightly to look toward him once again as they kept their slow and steady pace. "You mean, you won't have to worry about any Wyld Hunts?"

He smirked as he looked at her. "What do you mean, 'me?' I can hide myself quite well, thank you. You, on the other hand, seem to attract them like flies."

She shook her head slightly. "Prey is always unconsciously attracted to predator. It is the way of things."

Kale rolled his eyes. "All the rhetoric and philosophy of what you are aside, you really believe yourself to be a predator?"

She slowly turned her head to gaze into his eyes. "It was my job to be a predator for five years, Kale." She gave him an even look, as if silently daring him to continue.

Kale gave her a somewhat confused look. "Now that its no longer your job, you still believe yourself to be nothing more than a predator?"

She looked at him with her head tilted sideways slightly for a moment, before opening her mouth, and allowing her fangs to grow. In the sunlight, her visibly elongating and sharpening canine teeth were much more obvious. She closed her mouth again, looking into his eyes pointedly before turning back to look at the barely-visible path ahead of them. "Does that answer your question?"

He really couldn't help but persist. "Yes, you have fangs, and yes, you have to drink blood." He managed to suppress the shudder that went through him at the thought. "But you also have memories, your knowledge, and your honor. Doesn't that make you more than just a simple predator?"

Rosethorne was silent. As he studied her reaction out of the corner of his eye, he thought at first that he had offended her somehow. However, the way her lips were slightly pursed, the tell-tale slight tilt of her head to the side, and her eyes narrowed slightly told him otherwise. She spoke up after thinking for a few seconds more. "I have those traits, true. However, they are in addition to my propensity for being a predatory being."

So, she still stayed with the same idea. Interesting. "What if you could eat normal human food? Would you still be a predator then?"

Her answer was without hesitation. "Yes."

Oh no, she wasn't getting away with a simple answer, not to a question like this. "Okay, why?"

She turned to look at him again, a lock of her long ebon bangs falling over her right eye, her expression neutral. "My nature as a predator wouldn't be as immediately obvious, as I would have no need for fangs. However, my desire to slay those that I name as my enemies would still bear evidence of it."

Kale smiled. "But ordinary people, as we used to be before the Exaltation, have these feelings as well. They aspire to right wrongs committed upon them, and make war on their enemies if the cause is great enough. So, what does being what you are now make you a predator, beyond living longer and being able to channel essence?"

She was silent again, thinking once more. Her voice seemed...a little softer than usual. "A person, given greater abilities and power beyond the norm can either prey on those who are weaker than they, stand up self-righteously to protect those weaker than they, or use it strictly for their own ends."

That made Kale think a moment. It reminded him of the train of thought that ran through his mind quite often as Melia was training him. Had it really been only a few months ago? "I disagree on the viewpoint somewhat. A person with our capabilities can either misuse their talents to harm or take advantage of those who don't have them, dedicate themselves to protecting those weaker than they, or simply not involve themselves with those people who don't have their abilities, which can end up being a good or bad thing."

She looked at him curiously. "That's what I just said, except for slight changes of verbiage. However, what do you mean by not getting involved in human affairs being a good or bad thing?"

Kale shook his head. "As for just changing the words around, no, it's not just a change of words. As I see it, the Exalts in the world are given power, but with that power comes twice as much responsibility. If you just use your talents to bully those who don't, that makes you no better than the Immaculates. Sure, the way you might go about doing it might be different, but the end result is the same."

She just looked at him. "The Solars had the same sort of regime, during the First Age. They brought the entire world under their fist."

Unbidden, images flashed through Kale's mind. It bewildered him to keep up with the assault on his mind's eye, though he was able to make out quite a few details. He shook his head to clear it, and reflected for a few moments.

Rosethorne looked at him sidelong, and turned her head to face him, questioning. "Are you not feeling well?"

Kale shook his head. "No, I'm fine. I was just thinking too deeply there for a moment."

She gave him a dubious look, but said nothing.

He marshaled his thoughts to answer her earlier question, based on the little that he understood or recognized from the fragmentary images, guessing that they were bits of Melia's memories washing over him in that instant. "The Solar Deliberative was good and just - for the first thousand years, at any rate. It was after that time that the majority of them began to feel arrogant in their power, enough to think of other people as simply tools to be used, or cattle to be herded. It wasn't long after that when the Dragon Blooded revolted."

She turned her head to face him again, her head slightly tilted, bringing a lock of her bangs across her eye once more. "Is this what you meant when you were speaking of those among us who separate themselves from everyone else?"

Kale nodded, turning to look into her ice-blue eyes before he replied. He was momentarily stunned and fascinated by their depth before he blinked his eyes to clear them, and replied as if nothing had happened. He hoped she didn't notice him staring. "Yes. From what I understand, some of the Solars toward the end of the First Age summoned demons, trafficked with the Yozi, and worse, just to increase their own power."

She tilted her head slightly downward, while still gazing into his eyes as they walked. "...And wanting to increase the power at one's disposal is...a bad thing?"

Kale nodded, a somber expression on face. "Sure, it's power exchange - but at what cost? The prices they ask for are always something more than you're willing to give. Favors between people you know and trust; that's one thing, since you trust them to not be unfair. But when you're deliberately dealing with beings that enjoy causing corruption and strife in others...yeah, no thanks."

She looked at him, a curious expression on her face. When Kale didn't elaborate right away, she spoke up. "You surprise me, Kale. You seem surprisingly well-informed on some things, and surprisingly..." She paused, as if looking for the right word. "...innocent in others."

He gave her a half-smile. "Most of what I know, I know from my Essence's memories, and what she's told and taught me."

She returned the half-smile. "So, it appears you've been subjected to the same 'rhetoric' as I."

Kale chuckled quietly. "Nah, she gave me the information, and let me make up my own mind about it."

They walked in silence for a few minutes, both of them taking long looks at the lush, green scenery around them, as it would be soon gone once they reached the desert lands. Kale spied a wild strawberry patch a ways off the path, and his mouth involuntarily began to salivate as he remembered how good the last ones he had were, and how long ago it had been. The thought struck him - if he was getting hungry, then how was Rosethorne doing?

Kale looked back at her, seeing her looking off to her left, facing away from him. Wow, this was uncomfortable, he was about to seriously ask someone if they needed blood. "Hey, Rosethorne?"

Her head turned sinuously back toward him, her eyebrows raised slightly in question. "Hm?"

He scratched the back of his head for a moment, trying to think of how to put this into words. She gave him an indulgent and slightly curious look. "Um, when was the last time you ate?"

She looked slightly skyward, her head tilted to the side. "I haven't fed since that night with the Immaculate soldiers, I believe. Why?"

Kale's eyebrows raised in surprise. "It's been that long?"

She nodded, looking at him with slight curiosity. "Why do you raise the question?"

He took a breath. Kale still didn't believe he was asking this. "Well, I realized I was beginning to get hungry, and I ate last night. You, on the other hand, haven't....er, fed since that night."

She looked at him impassively. "I am fine, for now." She turned her head back to face the path before them, and then turned back to look at him, curious. "Why are you concerned for my welfare? I'm the one guarding you, am I not?"

Kale chuckled. He couldn't help it. "First off, you're with me as we agreed: as my companion, not my retainer, not my bodyguard, and not my bathmaiden." He paused, as if thinking. "Although..."

She gave him a look that would have rivaled the deep Northern snows for pure freezing intensity.

He laughed. "I'm kidding, I swear. Seriously, I was concerned for your welfare because since I knew I was hungry, you might be as well. Fair's fair, and all that."

The look on her face changed from wintry glare to curious rather quickly as she looked at him. "What a strange expression."

Kale looked at her, curious himself. "Which?"

She tilted her head slightly to the side, allowing the same lock of her bangs to fall across her eye once more. Kale was beginning to think she did this on purpose. It did make her look rather fetching, at any rate. Kale realized as she was replying that he was staring at her, and looked away as she was answering. "Your expression...what was it...'fair's fair?'"

He looked back at her, careful to have his glance be casual. "It basically means to do to others what you would have them do to you; it's a method of measuring your own behavior toward others based on others doing the same to you."

Rosethorne raised her eyebrow, curious. "That could be taken in a few different ways."

Kale looked back at her, wondering what she was getting at. "Like?"

She looked thoughtful for a moment before replying. "For instance, what you just did - being concerned for my welfare, because you wish me to be concerned with yours."

He raised both of his eyebrows in surprise. Wow, she was insightful when he least expected it! "Well, you said you were trying to protect me before I reminded you that I don't need protecting, right?"

She slowly turned to look at him again, her face impassive. "I will grant you that - you are quite good at staying out of trouble." Her grave face turned into a smile. "Until you open your mouth."

And now she springs a joke! She really must be loosening up, he guessed. Kale chuckled as he thought about this, before assuming a serious face. "Nah, I just open my mouth around people who are sworn to protect my life and have to put up with it."

Kale saw her close her eyes and slowly shake her head for a moment before looking back at him. Her face would have looked slightly annoyed, were it not for the visible twinkle in her eyes. "So, to be sure I understand this 'fair's fair' concept of yours - because I would never wish to irritate others with smart remarks, should I cut out your tongue?"

He gave her a smirk as he replied. "Psh. You'll have to catch me first."

She gave him a cold smile. "That much is easily arranged." She lunged at him with hands outstretched. She moved so quickly that he didn't have time to dodge, as he became aware of the attack just as her hands closed around his throat. His eyes widened as he looked into her eyes, seeing the grim certainty there. He threw himself backwards in an attempt to escape, but she followed his motion relentlessly, pushing him onto his back heavily. She sat on his stomach to keep her balance.

Kale's wide-open brown eyes met her cold, narrowed ice-blue eyes. For a few moments, he was becoming scared as she had her hands pressed expertly into his windpipe, her arms locked to prevent movement. He was just as surprised as a few moments later, her eyes widened slightly while looking into his, her facial expression softening into quiet surprise. Her cool hands slowly relaxed their grip around his neck.

He quickly caught his breath as they continued gazing into one another's eyes. He gently grabbed her hands with his, removing them from his neck, though not letting go of her pale, cool hands just yet. "Do I need to brush my teeth again, or something?" He asked quietly, with a small smile on his face.

She shook her head, while still looking surprised, and a little bewildered. "No...I'm not sure what it was, but you seemed...more familiar, somehow."

He smiled gently up at her. "Well, I wouldn't be male if I weren't enjoying this somewhat, but your claw is digging into my leg."

Rosethorne's expression changed from stunned to slightly amused as she shook her head. She clasped his hands with hers as she rapidly stood up, pulling him to his feet as well. She spoke in a softer voice than usual. "I went too far to prove a point. I apologize."

Kale gently felt around his throat as he answered somewhat hoarsely. "I'm not counting that as you saving my life, in case you're wondering."

She smirked as she looked at him, shaking her head again, but saying nothing.

He coughed experimentally, relived that he could breathe normally now. "I have to ask - by the 'fair's fair' rule, does this mean that you want to be choked with me on top of you?"

She gave him what could only be described as a mix between a wintry glare and slight amusement. "It would be most unwise for you to even entertain the thought."

Kale nodded in understanding, and they began walking again by unspoken agreement.

A few minutes later, he gave voice to the thought that was troubling his mind. "Of course, you realize this means I now owe you one."

Kale was sorely tempted to consider the frosty glare she gave him as a dare.


	33. Overshadowing the Dusk

They walked in silence for a few minutes. Kale seemed to be taking the long strides of someone used to covering lots of ground, with Rosethorne effortlessly keeping up with a marching pace.

This question nagged at her. When she had invoked the rote to seize him by his throat and forced him to the ground, that brief moment where she saw...something in his eyes had surprised her. It had surprised her far more than she would like to admit, enough to even loosen her grip around his neck. It has surprised her again, in the back of her mind, that his hands were so warm when he gently removed her hands from his neck.

It was a strong sense of...familiarity that seemed to resound within her, though it had left as quickly and suddenly as it had arrived. It still had her concerned and lost in her thoughts now, though her eyes automatically surveyed the path ahead. For that fateful second, it felt as if her entire being resounded with the sense of familiarity. It had come upon her after she sat on his stomach on the ground and looked into his eyes. Something about that gently touched a forgotten memory within her, almost bringing it to the surface, though not enough to remember.

The sweet-smelling grasses and low-growing shrubs were slowly giving way to the tawny sands of the desert as they walked. The noonday sun was hotter than she remembered, feeling as if it were beating relentlessly onto all her skin at once, burning as it touched her. She felt sweaty from being too warm, which was something that hadn't happened to her in recent memory. She glanced at him, seeing him take off his satchel as they kept up their brisk pace, take off his long jacket, and place it into the satchel, revealing a long-sleeved shirt made of thin material.

He glanced over at her, as she saw his eyes widen somewhat at the sight of a few rivulets of sweat beginning to run down her face. He didn't say anything at first, though kept glancing every minute or so. His looks were at first surprised, then more and more concerned. She kept her surprise at his reaction to herself, though found herself not suspecting his motives this time, which was something that surprised her at the realization.

He spoke up after he had glanced at her with barely-disguised concern, his eyes front. He asked in a carefully casual voice. "Hey, when you were packing up clothes, did you pack any warm-weather clothes?"

Rosethorne blinked at this. She was slightly angry at herself for not even thinking about that, as the Underworld was the same basic temperature all the time: that of nearly bone-chilling cold, which she had grown used to. Indeed, she had even begun to enjoy the temperature there. To feel...overheated was a shock for her. "No, I admit I didn't think of it."

She noticed that he was doing his best to hide a smile, and mostly succeeding. "Don't take this the wrong way, but I kinda figured you might."

Rosethorne turned her head imperiously, and fixed him with a look. "Oh?"

He nodded, still keeping his voice carefully casual, as if he had just thought of it. "Mmm-hm. It's why I brought a bit more along than I needed."

Rosethorne nodded at this, but didn't say anything. A few minutes of hearing nothing but their feet crunching softly through the sands passed, though she noticed that their pace had slowed. Had she slowed because of him, or had he slowed down because she unconsciously had?

It was strange to say that she had begun to understand and learn about this man who'd saved her life, and consequently been the cause of said life spinning in odd directions. When he spoke up with mock surprise, she gave him a long look. "Oh, look at that, over there! There's that oasis; I'd forgotten about it. Want to rest there?"

Clever. She had to hand him that. He was suggesting this as a way for her to maintain her dignity, which she appreciated. A small smile played around the corners of her mouth as evidence of it, though she didn't say it out loud. "Very well. How long of a 'rest' are you suggesting?"

He turned slightly as they walked, angling them away from their original path and toward a blot of green, some distance away. "Oh, not too long. Just an hour or so. The oasis is fed by the sea, so it's still pretty cool, even in the desert. Fresh water, too."

Rosethorne had to admit, the thought of immersing herself into cool water was very appealing. She grabbed the bottom of the neck of her shirt, and shook rapidly, hoping to tempt a breeze. She noticed his eyes glance toward her as they walked, and grow wide suddenly, before suddenly snapping his gaze back to the front, and attempting to look as if nothing had happened. She hid a smile of her own, as she realized what he had seen; her motion of shaking her shirt ceasing.

His reaction made her think, however. He hadn't stared lasciviously down her shirt in the least, though he did glance briefly. It reminded her of what he had said when they had first met, both wary around the other, when it came to women from his point of view. She realized that Kale saw looking as he did as vaguely disrespectful, which was actually somewhat refreshing, given her limited experience with men. However, she almost had to bite the inside of her lip to keep herself from smiling. She felt like testing a theory when they got to the oasis.

Kale's demeanor so far had seemed honest enough, though she still wasn't sure of his motives. Despite his kindness so far, he might still be planning something devious that involved ill intentions toward her, and the best way to test this theory was to see his reactions at the oasis. She hid another smile. If he reacted the way he had thus far, however, this might prove to be fun.

They walked in silence to the oasis, with Kale pointedly not looking at her as she ruffled her shirt again. It took a few minutes, but the sands suddenly gave way to a large outcropping of rocks forming a small cliff, surrounding a large, sparkling inlet of clear water. She took a deep breath. She admitted, it looked quite inviting.

He looked over at her again, keeping his gaze fixed on her eyes, and not looking downward in the least. "Want to go first? I'll keep lookout."

She quirked an eyebrow at him. "Yes, I'm sure."

He smirked. "I'll be looking at the surroundings and not staring at you, I promise."

She gave him a half smile. "Very well."

He pointed out the quickest way down through the rocks to the water below. "Right down there. Call out when you're done, since I think I'd like to go for a quick swim too."

She nodded before she swiftly descended the rocks. She walked to the water, gently lapping over the rocks at the water's edge, smelling the cool pureness of it. She took a few steps back to the drier rocks, and took off her satchel. After removing soap, she almost removed the towel, before burying it under her extra clothes with a small smile. She quickly removed her clothes, and dove into the cool, clear, and deep lake. As she surfaced with a gasp at the sudden shock of the cool water, she glanced about for Kale. She quickly saw him, with his back to her, looking at the sands around them. She smiled broadly as she began swimming comfortably on her back, watching him the entire time. She felt mildly disappointed when he didn't turn around at all.

She thought more about his reactions as she grabbed the soap and began to wash. It was quite strange; she had expected him to sneak a look at least once, though he hadn't. However, it looked as if he almost did more than once, before quickly turning his gaze to the desert around them.

She finished her washing rather quickly, and just enjoyed the feeling of the cool water on her skin. The overwhelming heat of the desert was swiftly becoming a fading memory, though she knew in the back of her mind that she'd have to face it once again.

Soon enough, she was finished, ready for the desert again with a sigh. She smirked though, as she decided to test her theory. "Kale, would you mind bringing me a towel?"

She heard his chuckle above her. "You mean to tell me you forgot one?"

Rosethorne kept her face as neutral as possible. "Unfortunately, yes."

"Good thing I brought two. Where you do want the towel?" His voice sounded amused, though he was still facing away from her.

"It might fall into the water if you drop it, Kale. Would you mind bringing it down here?"

There was a noticeable pause. "Alright."

She swam back into the deeper parts of the water, with only her neck above water as she watched him gracefully descend the rocks. As his descent was momentarily hidden by a large boulder, she swam to the rocks, and stepped out onto the water's edge.

He stepped out, his attention on his satchel as he dug out a clean and folded towel. As he pulled it free of his satchel, he looked to the water's edge, his eyes momentarily growing wide before spinning around to face away from her. "Sorry about that. Here's your towel."

She smiled. This seemed to be one of the ways in which his innocence displayed itself, she thought, as she walked over the rocks to gently take the towel from his outstretched hand. She decided to take her time drying herself. Let's test this reaction further, she thought. "Why do you look away, Kale?"

Another noticeable pause. "I don't want to feel as if I'm invading your privacy."

"I see," she replied with another smile. "Are you sure you're attracted to women, Kale?"

Kale still had his back to her. He replied with surety. "Oh, yes. I'm quite sure."

She raised an eyebrow as she handed the towel back into his hand, gently touching his hand before stepping back to her satchel. "And yet you do your best not to look if the opportunity presents itself?"

His reply sounded...a little uncomfortable. "Well, I don't want to make you feel uncomfortable by staring at you like a big stupid lout. Besides, it goes back to that fair's fair thing again."

Rosethorne selected some pants and a shirt of thinner material from her satchel as she replied with another smile. "Are you saying you're uncomfortable with the thought of a woman staring at you?"

He still had his back to her, though she could hear the smile in his voice. "Well, I don't want someone to stare at me like I was a piece of meat, no."

She finished putting on her shirt. She admitted, this idea to visit the oasis was a good one; she felt wonderfully refreshed. "How interesting. Your turn."

He didn't turn around quite yet. "I hate to ask, but in the interest of politeness, I have to. Are you decent?"

She decided to walk over past him to look into his eyes with a half smile. "On rare occasions."

After turning around to ascend the rocks to the desert above, she glanced quickly behind her, to catch him watching her ascend before rapidly turning around and moving behind a rock, the sounds of him getting undressed becoming apparent. She grinned as she finished ascending the rocks, and looked out at the desert around them.

As she heard him dive into the water, she studied the desolate landscape around this solitary island of rock and water amidst a sea of hot, dry sand. It made her wonder why people lived willingly out here.

She took a quick glance behind her to see him burst from the formerly still surface of the water. She looked briefly at him before turning around again, lest he catch her looking. Well, it was now apparent that he'd been idle almost never in his life, from the look of his chest and arms. It also explained how he was able to wield the large and cumbersome sword he seemed to favor so deftly.

She lost herself in thought as she surveyed the desert around them, seeing nothing but gently sloping hills of sand wherever she looked. She began to wonder idly if the time she'd spend in the forests and grassy plains had been a dream, as she saw no evidence of them now, even in the distance.

Rosethorne became quickly aware of his presence as he spoke, sitting on the rock beside her. "Enjoy the view?"

Keeping silent for now, until she was sure what view he was speaking of, she merely looked at him questioningly. "Hm?"

Kale looked in the same direction she had been looking only a moment before. "The heat doesn't bother me that much, but I still prefer to live in the plains or forests, where it's cooler." He paused a moment. "Not to mention less depressing."

She nodded. "Indeed, so shall we get this trip over with? I presume you'd like to return to your beloved forest afterwards."

He turned to look at her, smirking. "Yeah; you're right. Shall we?" He stood up, waiting for her. He saw her looking up into his eyes with a smirk on her face. He looked at her a moment before replying, somewhat amused himself now. "What?"

She shook her head with a smile. "Nothing." She stood, and looked at him pointedly.

He shook his head now, looking someone perplexed. "...Okay."

They began walking again. Soon, the wonderfully cool water of the oasis seemed like a distant memory, swallowed up and devoured by the endless rolling dunes of the desert. They simultaneously took small mouthfuls of water from their waterskins. They both realized this at the same time, and looked at each other with a smile before looking at the path ahead of them once again.

Well, she had tested her theory about his reactions, and his behavior now made more sense. It seemed evident that he was simply being a gentleman, but it was equally evident he had little experience with women. It seemed an odd twist of fate to be traveling with a man such as this now, though it could have been worse.

She frowned slightly as she thought back regarding the previous week. Yes, it could be quite a bit worse.

She felt more relieved than words could express to see the sun setting to their left as they walked, feeling the air around them cooling off. She took a slow, deep breath, and murmured "Finally."

He glanced at her questioningly, before nodding in agreement. "Unfortunately, after dark is when things can get interesting here."

She looked at him, quirking an eyebrow as she did so. "Oh?"

Kale nodded, looking at their surroundings. "Sand raiders, weird gigantic beetles that eat people, and even more fun things."

Rosethorne looked vaguely amused. "What time of night do they usually appear?"

He shrugged. "It's not like they keep a timetable. It could be an hour after sun sets, it could be in the middle of the night."

Looking around the desert that enclosed them on all sides, she paused for a moment. "Do you want first watch, or do you want me to have the honor?"

Kale chuckled. "I'll take first watch. If nothing happens before I wake you, then we'll probably have an unexciting night."

She nodded. "Very well."

They walked in silence toward three tall, rising columns of rock, buried on end in the sand. They didn't look to be naturally occurring, especially placed as they were in the shape of a triangle. One of them listed slightly to the side however, giving her the impression that this formation had been in this place for a very long time.

Kale followed her gaze. "The Sentinels. I've heard stories that it was once part of a larger formation, made to give travelers a safe place to sleep."

She looked at him, her head tilted slightly to the side. "Is sleeping within the Sentinel's shadows safer than the desert surrounding it?"

He chuckled. "Not really."

She half-heartedly glared at him, which only earned her a smile in response. They quickly busied themselves in getting ready for the night, Rosethorne being exceptionally careful to not get any sand in her blanket or on her bedroll. She got beneath her blanket, being somewhat surprised at how cool the night had become, compared of the searing heat only a few hours ago. It made her think that in this place of extremes, it would either be quiet and uneventful, or very exciting.

He crouched down beside her bed, looking down at her. "Sleep well. I'll wake you in a few hours."

She nodded, looking at him with a slight smile before rolling onto her side, and closing her eyes. She was surprised at how quickly she fell asleep.

Her dreams once again were scattered and random, making little sense. She wasn't especially surprised when she heard his voice between dreams.

" _I recognize him..._ "

She felt a little amused by his first words of this conversation. "You mean the Solar?"

" _Yes...his form is unfamiliar to me, but there's something within him..._ "

She raised an eyebrow. Rosethorne was momentarily amused at how lifelike this dream seemed to be. But then again, it was always this way when she spoke with her Essence, for better or worse. "You mean, his Essence?"

" _...I cannot see it, but something strikes me as very familiar about it._ "

"Yes, that's quite interesting, I'm sure. However, I'm more concerned about whether or not I'm still being hunted. Do you know?"

There was a pause, in the silence of this place of pure shadow. " _Yes, though they do not know your whereabouts. They are still searching for you, however._ "

She nodded. That made sense. However, the thought of her life only two weeks ago struck her, and made her look downcast. "They're never going to rest until I've been slain, are they?"

The response was immediate. " _No._ "

Rosethorne began to feel uncomfortable, which made her feel slightly angry. "So is my traveling with this Solar is only delaying the inevitable?"

There was another pause, which began to irritate her. " _I cannot say. What I can say is that things feel much more...peaceful in his company._ "

She paused, her anger draining away. As insane and annoying as the Essence within her was, he did have a point. She did feel much more at peace around Kale; something she had grown to enjoy. "So you're suggesting I remain in his company for now?"

There was another pause, though shorter this time. " _I cannot say why, as I do not know. However, I feel that you should._ "

She shrugged, in this place of shadows and dreams, though she couldn't quite keep the sarcasm from her reply. "Very well. I'm glad to know I have your approval."

She heard an echoing chuckle all around her. " _I cannot say why, though I can say what my intuition tells me._ "

Rosethorne's eyes narrowed at the ensuing silence. "...Which is?"

" _That you will soon find out why._ "

The next thing she knew, someone was gently shaking her shoulder. As she felt herself being dragged into wakefulness, she turned to look at who would dare to touch her, but she relaxed when she saw it was Kale, looking somewhat concerned. "Hey, wake up, sleepyhead. You were talking in your sleep."

She hid a mortified look as she blinked her way into wakefulness, seeing the enveloping darkness all around them, the Sentinels surrounding their resting place reminding her of where she was. "Strange dreams. Give me a moment, and I'll be ready."

He withdrew his hand, and nodded. She stretched, and got out from beneath her blanket, strapping on her belt and scimitar. She left her claw and gauntlet by her bedroll, as she doubted she'd need them.

Standing to her feet, she looked at Kale. "Alright. May you have more restful dreams than I."

He smiled at her, and nodded. "I hope so, too."

She watched him remove his gear, and crawl into his bed, closing his eyes nearly immediately. She watched him as his breathing evened out, becoming more regular and calm, as he fell into dreams.

She looked around her, scanning her surroundings. To feel more comfortable, she drew some of the shadows around her, which allowed her to see better in the gloom as well. She practiced walking as he had done, feeling somewhat amused at how Kale's steps didn't make any sound or track, even in the desert. She felt that she had nearly learned the trick to it, when she heard noises surrounding her. She froze, her eyes scanning the desert.

Soon, she saw those that had made the noise. Small, crouching humanoid-looking beings, wearing little more than loincloths as they effortlessly loped through the desert. She saw that they carried spears, and were drawing nearer to where Kale slept.

Her eyes narrowed, as she used her newfound skill of walking quietly to move behind them. She heard their voices as they quietly spoke amongst themselves in some strange dialect.

"Hmm hmm, onlyone, thoughtthere weretwo?" The one speaking twitched nervously.

"Otherone isgonenow. Whatof thisone?" This one was actually licking its chops as it looked at Kale like...an uncooked piece of meat. Rosethorne smirked to herself, remembering their conversation earlier in the day, though she doubted this creature meant its look to be quite like what she and Kale had discussed.

"Killit killit, thenwe eat, yes!" The third one looked far too excited with the prospect. They began to creep nearer to where he slept, unaware that there was a larger shadow behind them, growing quickly and quietly nearer.

Rosethorne realized that she hadn't fed in several days, and the smell of these little unwashed things was nonetheless making her fangs grow involuntarily. She snuck behind the one nearest her, threw a hand over its mouth, and yanked it into the shadow where she hid in silence. She sunk her fangs into its neck, her hand stifling its squeal of surprise.

She kept an eye on the other two, who were prancing quietly near the Sentinel rocks now, and getting nearer. They still hadn't noticed the loss of their companion, their attention focused upon Kale's soft snores. She felt her food's struggles getting much weaker, now little more than twitches.

She dropped the decidedly more pale corpse onto the desert sand, and began creeping behind the one now nearest her. She felt sated now, despite the flecks of sand on her lips from the unwashed one's neck. She released the shadows around her, stepping into view from behind one of them, taking its head swiftly.

The third one whirled in surprise at the noise, its eyes growing wide as it saw her. She smiled at it, before she crossed the distance between them with shocking speed, seizing it around the throat with one hand and lifting it into the air. Its struggles increased, the fear it was feeling now obvious by its smell.

She didn't wish to torture it, which surprised her. In the past, she would have relished the feeling of causing terror to another...but not anymore. She dropped it onto the sand, and spoke a single word to it's wide-eyed and frightened face. "Run!"

The thing took off with alacrity, looking over its shoulder as it raced across the desert sands, putting as much distance between it and her as it possibly could.

She turned around to look at Kale, who was now sitting upright, looking in the direction the creature had run. "Damn. Looks like you got to have all the fun." He glanced at the pale corpse off in the distance, and the beheaded one nearer, before looking at her with a smirk. "Entirely too much fun, it seems."

She smiled at him, as she realized that she had saved his life. "My debt to you has been repaid."

He looked sleepily confused. "Huh?"

She looked patiently at him. "I saved your life. My debt to you has been fulfilled."

He looked a little shocked, and then downcast before looking back at her once again. Suddenly his eyes went wide, and he darted with unbelievable speed toward her. She dropped into a defensive posture, but he swept past her so quickly she felt a breeze as he passed. She spun around not quite fast enough to hear a growl, and a swishing noise, followed immediately by a crunch.

She looked behind her, her eyes widening as she saw the huge, centipede-like insect. From the way it fell, its mouth was about to sink into her back, though now it was making some strange clicking and soft squealing noise as it thrashed in its death throes, cut in half by Kale's blade.

He was still looking wide-eyed at it, his chest moving a little faster than normal. "Damn, that was a big one," he said as he turned to look at her, his eyes still wide open from the adrenaline in his body.

She felt somewhat relieved, but mostly angry as she glared at him. He looked back at the insect, his breathing slowing now, as he smiled. He turned to look back at her. "So, as you were sayi..."

He trailed off, and suddenly things seemed to move in slow motion. He dropped into a crouch, his legs beginning to launch himself toward something behind her. She began to turn, but not fast enough. She felt three long teeth sink deeply into her back. She gasped in pain, losing her grip on her scimitar, which began its slow descent to the ground.

Faster than seemed possible, she felt herself being dragged swiftly under the sand. The last thing she saw was Kale's wide-eyed look of shock, as he began to yell something, though she was under the sands too quickly to hear what.

Her scimitar hit the sands, as still now as they had ever been.


	34. Night Races Dusk's Fate

Kale's eyes grew wide as he saw the huge worm made of bone erupt silently from the sands. He raced toward it as quickly as he could, the gem in his bracer glowing as he moved with impossible speed. But, it wasn't enough. He saw the worm open it's mouth and pull its head back to strike, three bone spikes as long as spears extending from its maw as he took his first step. The boneworm struck like a thunderbolt, sinking all three of the bone spikes deep into Rosethorne's back. Her eyes grew wide with surprise, shock, and pain as he took his next leaping stride toward the boneworm. It retracted the bone spikes, drawing her into it's gaping, foul-smelling maw, and sunk with shocking speed back into the sands, now as undisturbed as they had ever been.

"Noooooooo!" Kale cried, as he dove where Rosethorne had been only a moment before.

Kale dug furiously, the gem in his bracer now glowing as his hands blurred with desperation. He slowed down, and stopped five minutes later, when he realized exactly how stupid trying to dig in sand with one's hands really was.

He fell back, sitting upright now, just looking at the sands where she had been just a few minutes before. He noticed her scimitar lying there, innocently. He stared at it for a minute, before standing, and walking over to grab it. He was mildly surprised at its weight, but then again, it was attuned to her. Not him. He sighed.

He felt a tugging on the back of his mind after he had placed her scimitar with her bedroll, and sat down on his own. He rolled his eyes as he felt it. "Nice timing, Melia."

He saw an image of a dusty, dark place, and a dark castle within this place. He suppressed his growing irritation with effort. "Yeah, that's nice, but I need to talk to you, and right now. You know, a two-sided conversation? With words?"

There was a pause, then an image of her little temple in the sands; her Manse. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath to calm himself. "I hope you realize that I'm four days south of there, even if I run the whole way."

A pause, then a feeling that he had time. Not too much time, but he had time. He felt like punching something, kicking something and screaming incoherently at the moon above. Instead, he decided to calm himself by rapidly moving through his sword katas for fifteen minutes to calm himself down. Thankfully, it worked.

Kale sighed again as he saw her rather forlorn and alone-looking bedroll and weapons. He packed up her things, and put them in the satchel she'd left behind, carrying both. He tested the weight of everything he carried, and found that it was light enough to run in.

Taking a deep breath to calm himself once more, he channeled his essence through his anima. The area around him grew more silent, more dark, more ethereal. The gem in his bracer glowed as he awakened it, beginning to take off at a dead run back the way he and Rosethorne had travelled such a short time ago. The Sentinels rapidly faded into the distance behind him.

As he ran with speed borne of desperation for the rest of the night, his mind drifted off in thought. He had met the bloodthirsty and vicious woman such a short time ago, but he already missed her. Saying that it was because she reminded him of the first friend he'd ever had before she had to move away to parts unknown with her parents seemed stupid at best. Granted, Rosethorne had a sense of humor, was intelligent, and was very pretty as dead women go, but even still. Life was never simple, he grumbled.

She had seemed all kinds of pleased when she announced that since she had saved his life, she no longer owed him. He couldn't get that self-satisfied smile of hers out of his mind. Even so, he smirked to himself as he remembered watching how she had stalked and slain two of the little sand raiders, and scared the third one so badly he pissed himself. His smirk faded as he realized that he had to have been fooling himself if he thought she was attracted to him in any way, shape, or form. She had been travelling with him due to her sense of honor alone. Well, he admitted, she did indeed have a sense of honor. He could respect that about her.

The scene of that worm erupting violently from the sands, and swallowing her as if she were a mere insect replayed in his mind, along with the small gasp he heard from her, as she was impaled by the three long, bone spines. He suppressed a shudder at the memory, and ran just a little faster.

He sighed again, as his attention drifted back to his surroundings. He was mildly surprised to see that he was wrong about how long of a trip this would be, since he had forgotten to take that weird gem into account. He saw that the desert lands were rapidly turning back into the grassy plains once more as he swiftly ran. Kale decided to ask Melia exactly what in Sol's name that gem was when he got back to her little temple.

Kale kept running to the edge of the forest, where he decided to call it a night. He tiredly climbed one of the taller trees, and stretched out on one of the higher limbs that could still bear his weight. He automatically invoked the rote that would wake him instantly if anyone attempted to disturb him, and passed out for a few precious hours.

His dreams were strange; fragmented. Ten thousand fires scorching the towns of the entire land, bringing an armageddon to the end of the First Age. The last dream he had before he opened his eyes to see the mid-morning sun through the thick branches of the tree he called his bed made him think the most.

The black, swirling nothingness of Oblivion dragging Rosethorne hungrily into itself, an insubstantial figure wearing a mask reaching out from the Abyss to attempt grabbing her, and pulling her in. But Rosethorne was trying to crawl away, holding out her hand for him to grab. He felt the sun strong at his back, and saw her staring into it single-mindedly, trying to crawl toward it. The sun grew so bright that it blinded him, even with the light being behind him. Just as he grabbed her hand, he awoke, sitting swiftly upright, and gasping.

He calmed his breathing, staring off into the distance as he tried to make sense of his dream. His eyes narrowed as his mind filled in the blanks, and he wondered idly if Melia had sent him the dream. A cold feeling from her dispelled the notion, but he knew it wasn't simply a dream.

Shrugging as he shook himself into wakefulness, Kale decided that his course of action was pretty simple. He'd save her, trying to convince himself that the reason he was doing it was because then she'd owe him one again, and they'd be free to travel together once more.

He shook his head in disgust at himself. That was the most pathetic bit of reasoning he'd ever used to talk himself into something, and that was saying quite a bit. He sighed as he blinked a few more times, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he got his gear together with efficient alacrity.

Closing his eyes, he channeled his essence through his anima once again, distancing himself from the senses of others. He dropped lightly onto his feet from the branch above the ground, and took off at a swift jog toward Melia's temple once more. He felt himself waking up, his heart and lungs getting into the rhythm of his jog, and he increased his pace, the gem glowing softly when it appeared out from under his coat as he swung his arms.

He was pleased somewhat at the time he was making, as he saw the landscape almost sweep by. He hadn't completely hidden his presence or scent, but he was quite a bit more difficult to detect with a casual look, despite the speed he was going. He hoped idly there wouldn't be any problems, as time was the utmost thing on his mind right now.

Kale rolled his eyes as he neared the small desert north of Thorns, seeing the same Immaculate patrol that stopped he and Rosethorne only yesterday. He dove into some nearby brush, the branches barely moving despite his high-speed passage. He grumbled quietly to himself as he invoked the rotes to mask his scent and presence, then promptly began running again.

He passed the patrol going the opposite direction. He grinned to himself, seeing none of their heads turn as he raced by. Except one, a soldier toward the middle of the ranks. Her eyes widened slightly, her head turning to follow him as he raced by. His eyebrows raised as he recognized her as the same one that spoke to them yesterday, and decided to put on another burst of speed to put some serious distance between he and them. However, he heard no cries of alarm, no yells of "ANATHEMA!" or anything. Though this didn't reassure him, he was thankful for the moment. Soon enough, he couldn't see or hear them any longer.

It took him a few more hours, but he reached the temple at last. Or at least, where the temple should be; now there was nothing but sand dunes. Kale stood there, breathing somewhat heavily as he stared at the spot where the temple wasn't. He felt like kicking something now out of sheer desperate frustration.

A memory of sorts nagged at him, reminding him that he had sunken the temple when last he left. He took a deep breath to calm himself as he thought out loud. "Great, I learned how to make the temple hide itself, that's grand. Now, more importantly, how do I bring it back up?" Kale shook his head, the urge to kick something growing stronger.

Hoping it would help matters, he decided to use his imagination, imagining the temple rising majestically and quickly from the desert sands below. He was surprised when something did emerge from the desert sands, but it wasn't the temple. It appeared to be a small, flat monolith.

He grinned, once he saw the five symbols in an intricate design upon it. He realized that it was the way to bring the temple up, and put in the combination Melia had taught him, wondering idly how he could change it. Melia was a smart woman, that's for sure, but her password was outright dumb.

Kale could have sworn he heard her tinkling laughter just then.

He shook his head, and pressed the last symbol. The ground began to shake ominously for a moment, before the temple rose majestically from the desert sands. Kale took a deep breath and smirked slightly. "See? I do have a good imagination," he remarked to the stones around him. They predictably didn't answer.

Taking long strides up the steps and into the temple proper, he saw the sleeping guardian at the end of the first room. It was standing guard over Melia's inner chamber. Unfortunately for Kale, this meant that there was no way he could just simply walk in.

"Hey!" He yelled to the sleeping guardian. He was relieved to see its eyes flare up a ghostly bluish-green, and look down at him with the slight grating noise of metal on metal.

"GREETINGS, KALE, CHILD OF THE NIGHT. WHAT IS YOUR WISH?" Kale was quietly thankful that the big guardian left its absurdly-large sword planted right between its feet, and not whizzing by his ears as it had in the past.

"Greetings yourself. Would you mind moving? I need to get into the chamber behind you." Kale kept his voice friendly, hiding his impatience.

The guardian nodded, and stepped with a room-shaking step to the side. Its eyes flickered and dimmed, as it assumed the look of overly-large armor once more.

Kale strode into the room, and sat down at the center. "Okay Melia, here we are. Please tell me I can have an actual conversation with you here."

He was half shocked, and half relieved when he saw her ghostly figure appear in front of him. It amused him slightly that he only had to look up slightly to look her in the eyes, despite how he was sitting cross-legged, and she was standing.

Melia's eyes opened, and looked at him with a smile. Her voice echoed slightly, as though she were speaking from a distance away, which she might be. "Yes, we can have a conversation here. I promise to answer all your questions as best I can, as I know you have many."

Kale gave her a smirk. "You're right there. Okay, I'll start with the simple one: what is this gem that was so drawn to, that helps me move so fast?"

She grinned, as she sat down cross-legged in front of him. Despite the fact that she was ghostly, Kale did his best not to look at her legs. "It was given to me as a wedding present from a friend. They were once given as tokens of favor to those Exalts who proved their abilities in battle. It had a more dry and stuffy scholarly title, but I always called it Thomaya's Blessing."

Kale nodded thoughtfully. At least now he knew what to call it, other than "pretty sparkly red gem." He cleared his throat as he broached the main reason he was here. Melia looked at him with a mixture of expectant curiosity and amusement dancing in her green eyes.

"Okay, so she got eaten by a big weird worm made of bone and dragged underneath the desert. Do you know where Rosethorne is?" His face was serious, now.

Melia nodded thoughtfully. "Yes, she's been taken to the Underworld by minions of her former Lord."

Kale's eyes grew wide. "She's been taken _where_?"

Melia continued as if she hadn't been interrupted. "I don't know exactly where she is, but I can tell by general direction."

Kale's eyes narrowed, suspicious. "How?"

She gave him a soft smile. "Because I can feel where my husband's Essence is, and the one who carries it within them."

Resting his head in his hands, Kale sighed. "And I suppose this is the part where you'll ask me to rescue her from a place I've never been, filled with people who hate the living, right?"

Shaking her head sadly, Melia answered. "No, that decision is yours. Though I would wish to see my husband saved, so I can be sure I keep my vows to him, I can't force you."

Kale raised his head to look at Melia thoughtfully. "What will happen if I don't? I have to know."

Despite being no longer alive, Melia closed her eyes and took a deep breath to calm herself. "She will be tortured to death over a span of months, years, perhaps even decades. When they are finished and she finally dies, my husband's very soul will be devoured by Oblivion, and Rosethorne will become Essence for her successor, fully under control of her former Deathlord."

Kale shuddered, taking a deep, shaking breath. "I have to know. How much time does she have?"

Melia closed her eyes, and shook her head slowly. "It's impossible to tell. Though she might technically live for as long as her Deathlord wishes, her will to live will quickly be subverted by her concentration on just blocking out the pain. As soon as she does this almost unconsciously upon waking, she will be lost; her mind poisoned and taken long before she physically dies."

Kale swallowed, his eyes slightly wide, taking a deep breath himself after hearing that. "Wow. Okay, now for the other side of the coin: why do you want me to save her? All the reasons, not just because you want to save your husband's soul."

Melia nodded, with a half smile. "I knew you'd be asking this. Perhaps I even wanted you to..." She shook her head. "No matter. If Rosethorne is removed from her former Deathlord's, and by extension, the Malfean's influence, her unconscious mind will begin rebelling against the Abyss-touched essence within her. There is a chance, but not a great one, that she can purge herself of its taint. As for my husband, the longer he remains conscious and awake, the chance remains that he can be saved as well."

She closed her eyes, and hung her head slightly. "I know...perhaps I'm grasping at straws, but any chance I have of saving him, I'll try doing." She raised her head to look at him, her ghostly eyes bright with unshed tears. "Besides, I felt a bond between you and she. I know you're beginning to fall in love with her, though you deny it, even to yourself. What you don't know is that despite the shadows she has surrounding her very soul, she feels the same way."

Kale sighed and leaned back. "You're damn right I'm denying it. That woman has this unhealthy love/love relationship with blood. I admit, she's rather attractive as dead women go, but still."

Melia smiled slightly at him. "Such things are merely details to the larger scenery, Kale. Would you go to save her for the chance that she might be saved from the Malfean's influence, from her Deathlord's plans, from the very Oblivion that beats within her?"

Laying back to look at the ceiling of the ornate and beautiful temple, Kale sighed again. "Are you asking me if I'm willing to risk my life and probably my soul as well for a _chance_?"

Melia's answer drifted to his ears. "Yes."

He sat up again, looking gravely into her face. "What I'm worried about is that every living thing I've ever truly cared about has died, Melia. Can you tell me honestly that if I do risk my soul, ass, and neck to rescue her, that she won't go the way of everything else I've cared about?"

Melia stood, and walked to sit behind him. Though ghostly and mostly insubstantial, feeling Melia's arms wrap around his chest as she hugged him gently from behind was comforting. At least she was warm. Her voice seemed soft from behind him. "No, I can't say, since I can't predict the future very well. What I can say is that despite all the problems I've had with my husband, they've always been external to he and I. I wouldn't have done things any differently if given the chance."

Kale got up, and paced the room nearly frantically as he thought. Melia sat back, just watching him, and giving him the time to come to a decision. She didn't have to wait long before he stopped, looked at her, and spoke up. "Alright. What do I need to know?"

Melia smiled at him as she looked up. "I don't know the layout of the castle she's being kept in, but I do know that you're sneaky enough now to explore, as long as you're careful." She smiled broadly at him, her eyes twinkling like twin jade lights. "I'm proud of you, Kale. I know you can do it."

He gave her a half-smile. "Yeah, thanks. I'll start believing that after I get back. Speaking of which, what's the best way to get into the lands of the dead?"

She took another deep breath before looking at him. "The best route would be through the Shadowland that surrounds Thorns."

Kale's jaw dropped. "You mean to tell me that I have to sneak by both the Immaculates _and_ the undead just to sneak inside?"

Melia just nodded.

"Oh, damn." He sighed. He got to his feet, and gave a half-smile to Melia. "Thanks for all of your help today, even if I snapped at you."

She just grinned up at him before standing as well. "Don't worry, Kale. I won't be taking my rest just yet. I want to see how this turns out. However, I don't think I have enough strength left to speak to you like this any place other than here, since I have a bond to this place."

Kale nodded. "Well, if I'm to save her, I'd better leave now." He took one last look at Melia, then turned around and marched swiftly for the door, bidding a cheery goodbye to a somewhat confused guardian before locking up the temple and darting outside. He looked at the temple one more time as it swiftly sank into the sands, before turning around to face the way he had arrived.

It was time to return to Thorns. His eyes narrowed with resolve as he took off running as fast as he could.


	35. Shadow Huntress Unto Nightmare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be warned - this chapter contains descriptions of torture. Fantasy torture, yes, but still torture.

Rosethorne's eyes opened wide as she painfully regained consciousness. The pain made her body sing in low, discordant waves of agony. She was in the same torturous contraption again. It had only been a little more than a week since she had been released from it's agonizing and life-suppressing grip, but it seemed like it had been months. Her wish that it had been months at least, or never again at best were put to the side, as she concentrated on separating herself from her body's torment.

She was unable to move her head even a fraction, as it was held still by the soulsteel collars around her neck and head. Long, spiraled needles were embedded between the knuckles of each hand, with each wrist securely bound to the arms of the contraption. Clamps, more needles, hooks, and other things she couldn't recognize by feel held her motionless to the strange, chair-like contraption.

Rosethorne heard his voice, even if he was out of her immediate and rather limited view. The voice of the being that had tortured her mercilessly and unfairly just a short time before. She felt other memories rising in anger at him as well, but they were as formless as dreams, fading away before she could remember. "Did you really think you could fail me, and then evade my notice?"

The Mask of Winters, her former Deathlord; it could be nobody else, with the assured cold certainty in his voice. He moved into her view now, as he seemed to float to the side of the contraption and turn a knob. Her body again screamed its torment at her, but she didn't allow the pain to be shown outside of her mind. Not when he broke her leg with surgical precision. Not when he removed part of the broken bone, and not even when he poured some of the hated black ichorous substance into the wound. She could feel the ichor boiling and frothing, fighting her body's natural healing rate to a halt.

Her face never changed expression. She would not give him the satisfaction of hearing or seeing her give into her agony. His voice seemed to drift like a hungry, poisonous snake into her ears. "Yes, resist all you like, my fallen weapon, my failed general. I will have you tortured until you see the truth of things, that you are my pawn, and nothing more."

The Mask of Winters moved out of her line of sight again, and she felt the skin of her scalp being frozen by the touch of his hands. "Pawns who do not know their place become dangerous, but only to themselves."

He moved back into her line of sight once more, bending slightly to look her in the eyes. Even though partially hidden by his ever-present mask, his eyes seemed to catch hers with frozen certainty, his gaze seeming to worm its way into her mind. "I know not what nonsense your Essence has been telling you, but it most certainly let you go in a direction contrary to what you are. Once you realize the truth of this, I will give you the blessing of death, that you may continue serving me."

The Mask of Winters moved his face closer to hers as he continued. His voice sounded almost...paternal. "It's not entirely your fault that you ran astray, as you didn't know any better." His voice grew coldly certain once more. "However, you still did so, and you must pay the price."

He took a metal, spiral instrument, and began slowly and lightly boring a hole through the skin over her abdomen as he continued. She did not, she could not let him see her in pain. She would not allow him to see. "You failed me in much more than one way, that fateful night. It took me some effort to find you, and track you down."

The instrument he was using had pierced the lining of her abdomen. He paused as he drilled a little bit further, nodded in satisfaction, and put the implement away. The Mask of Winters continued as he returned with a jar of the black ichor. "Just know to the depths of your failed and soiled soul that there is no escaping your fate. Your destiny is to serve me, and serve me you shall."

He began slowly pouring the ichor into her abdomen. It began hungrily devouring her internal organs, even as her body fought back to heal the damage as quickly as it was caused. The pain was sharp, and she was almost unable to mask it. The only sign she gave of this was to slowly blink.

"Because of your contributions to me, I will purify you by pain and agony, and show you through torment the truth. Once you have seen and understood this truth, I will allow your torment to end." He finished emptying the large jar into her abdomen.

He put the jar away, and floated back into her line of sight. "I do this because I value your service to me, and what I control. In this incarnation, you appear to be flawed, and it was my fault for not spotting the flaw until it was too late. Do not worry, I will find the perfect container for you once you are ready to serve me once more."

She still said nothing, and continued looking at the dimly-lit ceiling. He glided out of her view, and out the door. Greta and Kaesta came in together a short time later. Greta with her usual aimless, random meandering, and Kaesta with long, purposeful strides. Greta spoke up first in her usual sing-song voice. "Our Lord decrees that you must be purified of your soul's taint. I will use all my skill to make sure you are cleansed properly."

She began manipulating a few of the knobs of the contraptions, and Rosethorne's pain seemed to double, and then triple in intensity. Her jaw clenched as she forced herself to meditate, to move beyond the pain. She managed to move her mind to slightly outside of herself with great difficulty, the pain almost bringing her back more than once.

Kaesta moved into her view with a look of concern on her pale face. "Oh, I'm so sorry this had to happen to you, my dear." She moved a cold hand to caress Rosethorne's face, who forced herself not to glare hatefully at Kaesta. She wouldn't give her the satisfaction, either. "Even though you and I were both given the beautiful Black Exaltation and have grown apart over the years, you're still my daughter, and I still love you. Just know that there are larger things to be worried about now. I'll still take care of you after you are reborn."

Through great effort, Rosethorne forced herself not to respond. A memory surged to the surface of her mind, one of the many she had supressed long ago. She remembered that because of her mother's selfishness, both of them were taken by the Deathlord's minions to be sacrificed, and later both given the Black Exaltation instead. Rosethorne would never forgive her for that. She would never forgive Kaesta for leaving her father's and brother's memories behind so off-handedly, to become little better than a harlot to anything that desired her company. And she would never forgive Kaesta for her selfishness and short-sightedness.

"Nothing to say, daughter? That's alright, I know you're still confused about what happened to you in the last week. It'll be easier on you if you just think of it as a dream." Kaesta finished stroking Rosethorne's face in a horrific parody of motherly affection, and pulled her hand away.

"Your daughter died that night, Kaesta. Just as my mother did." Rosethorne couldn't quite suppress the urge to give vent to how she felt about Kaesta, even if it was in a minor and small way.

Kaesta laughed melodiously. "Aww, you're still angry about being shown that you were wrong, just like any other rebellious teenager. Don't worry, you'll see the truth in time." She left the room with graceful steps.

Rosethorne fought with great effort to keep her face and body calm and relaxed, distracting her from the pain she felt all over her body. But the sneaking suspicion crept into her mind: what if she was right?

What if she was simply being rebellious, and trying to run away from her responsibilities and proper place? As tempting and bright as the surface world was, she felt alien and unwanted there. She didn't know how to live a quiet life, as Kale seemed to manage doing, most of the time. War and battle was what she was best at. It seemed to be all she knew anymore.

Rosethorne shut out the thoughts and cleared her mind, even as Greta began imaginatively inflicting new agonies upon her. A more quiet voice in the back of her head reminded her of what the wraith had told her a few months ago, and what had been almost seconded by the Essence within her. She was a living being, touched and chilled by Death and Oblivion itself. A parody of life that was perfectly suited to extinguishing life.

But what was taint, really? Was it wanting what was beyond her? Wanting to feel the heat and light of the sun on her face, feeling cooling breezes across her skin, feeling the grass beneath her, even though it caused her bare skin to itch slightly? Or was it what had been forced upon her more than five years ago, turning a frightened and angry young woman into a hardened general, a skilled taker of lives?

Greta finished her work, and began just as aimlessly leaving the room. Some parts of the contraption expanded and contracted its bone and soulsteel parts within her skin, stretching and tearing still even as her body reformed and healed itself. A single tear slowly formed in her right eye, making her vision become blurry and indistinct, even as the tear began a slow and mournful journey down her face and toward the floor.

No matter what she thought of it, there was no escaping this. Was resisting the pain worth it, really? It only seemed to prolong the inevitable. She knew with a sinking feeling that she would give up sooner or later, and it was only stubbornness and anger that made her want to make sure it was later, rather than sooner. Her eyes closed as she drifted off to sleep, the only way to really silence her mind and help block out the pain.

Rosethorne's dreams were strange, and more distinct than usual. She saw a blinding, burning light in front of her. It seemed to scorch her skin, but even as it burned, she wanted to walk toward it. She looked behind her, and saw a sea of cool, comforting shadows that enticed her to cool her burned body within its depths. Tendrils of shadow rose from the sea, and began creeping toward her. She knew she must pick which extreme to walk toward, as there seemed to be no middle ground, but there was a quiet third option to her. A single, sharp blade, which she knew would be for taking her own life.

The ramifications of each slowly became clear. The sea of shadows was familiar, cool, comforting, even though it stifled and quelled any life within its depths. The cold, even cadence of shadow and death was predictable and comforting as it was familiar. The bright, burning light on the other side of her hurt to look at, hurt her skin where it touched, but something within her wanted to be a part of its burning, unquenched depths, to feel that brightness more.

The short blade caught her attention. It was the only other way out, to choose neither shadow nor burning brightness, to choose the death she had been denied and yet given to so many others.

All of this faded into darkness as shadows of a different sort surrounded her. These shadows were familiar, at least. She knew their whispering movement, she knew their touch.

" _I am still hiding your mind from them, but it is...difficult to do now._ "

She spoke up to the shadows, and the being she knew was lurking within them. "Why do you still do so? What motivated you to convince me to turn my back on what I knew, even for a short while?"

There was a lengthy silence. She was almost afraid he had gone, but his voice made itself heard unexpectedly. " _What motivated me was what I still remember, even now. For you, being Exalted was something that helped you to leave all your past behind and start anew. For me, it was giving up and giving into greed and anger at what had happened to me._ "

"But you are a part of Oblivion! Why do you confuse things?" She was growing confused, which made her more angry.

" _It was not always so._ " His voice was even more quiet than normal.

"But it is what you are now, is it not? Why do you wish for something else?"

" _Because I feel...something wishing it for me. I know not who, or what, but I feel it just the same. It's so dark...too dark to see. I've been deafened and blinded for so long, I've forgotten what it's like to see or hear; the darkness that suffuses me prevents it._ "

Rosethorne narrowed her eyes, obscuring them in shadow. "What do you mean, you cannot hear or see? You seem to be communicating quite well, for a deaf and blind spirit."

A half-hearted shadowy chuckle drifted into her ears. " _I can speak to you alone, and see your immediate surroundings. But I cannot see into the realm of souls as I once was able to._ "

She thought for a few moments. "You never answered my earlier question. Why are you still not bonded to me? Why do you still try to hide my thoughts from others?"

His voice was barely a whisper. She had to strain to hear it, even in dreams. " _For you, being given Exaltation was a positive thing. For me, it was confirmation of my own thirst for revenge... and lack of will._ "

Her eyes narrowed again, her voice was a hiss of anger. "What in the Yozi's infested hells are you talking about?"

His own voice grew to an echoing shout of anger. " _You have no idea about what happened to me, nor do you have any basis of comparison! You cannot begin to comprehend how it feels to die a righteous, clean death in battle, despite being betrayed by those you cared about. You don't know what it feels like to be trapped without a body, in a dark place so far away from the sun's life-giving light. You especially don't know what it's like to finally give in to the whispers that fill your very mind, encouraging and cajoling you to give into the dark blessings of power bestowed upon you by the very foul things you slew so long ago to make this world safe for people to walk. You especially don't know what it feels like to leave behind someone you love more than life itself because you gave into your own greed, and know that she never gave in. I've been reminded of it by that thrice-accursed Malfean ever since I gave in; that foul thing will never let me forget that I was weak by giving in, that I was a failure, that I was terrible at every thing I ever loved doing, that the only thing I could be good at again was helping others to extinguish life, as killing was the one thing I was good at. For two hundred years, I was trapped in another cage, with nothing but the whispers of that accursed thing as company!_ "

Rosethorne thought for a few moments in silence once he had finished his outburst. "So you crave that which you cannot have, now?"

He was silent for a while before responding again, in a lower voice, filled with an undercurrent of anger. " _I crave that which I once had. Ever since you went to the surface and felt the sun on your skin, I felt it too, and remembered with stark clarity what it once was like to not be trapped in this place of darkness and death._ "

She began to think that perhaps, just perhaps, the Mask of Winters was right. Her Essence was tempting her to serve his own ends, which brought her into conflict with those she served. Once served, Rosethorne amended to herself. She still wasn't sure what she should do.

His voice was quieter now. " _The real question isn't a real one. The real question is a metaphorical one: if the chance came for you to leave this place and return to the sunlit lands, and leave this place behind, would you do it?_ "

She couldn't help but sound a little sarcastic. "There is no way I am escaping this place without help, and there is no help coming. Thinking of such things is dangerous."

Rosethorne could almost see his smile. " _You didn't answer my question._ "

She sighed, and gave it at least a moment's thought. "Fine. In the highly unlikely...no, impossible chance that someone will ride in on a white horse and save me, I might consider it, yes."

" _Then I ask you this: just be patient. Don't make any decisions for at least a month; I know you can hold out that long._ "

Her eyes narrowed again. "Why a month?"

He was silent for a few moments. " _It seems like a reasonable amount of time to wait. If nobody comes, then I admit to being wrong, and you can do what you think is best with no argument from me._ "

She took a deep breath as she considered. "Fine. I can hold out a month, for the impossible chance of rescue."

" _Good._ " He paused for a few moments in silence. the only sounds in this place being the whispering touch of shadows touching each other. " _You're not a dead being, you know._ "

With that, she awoke, angered at him having the last word yet again. She felt pulled in two different directions; one she knew and was familiar with, even though she was never quite happy. The other was unknown and frightening, and burned her, but it drew her like a moth to a flame anyway. The last option...yes, she could simply take her own life, and escape the decision. Her jaw set in annoyance. However, the option of suicide was the coward's way, and she would not take that route.

A few days passed; she was unaware of the passage of time in this place, so she was only guessing at how long she'd been trapped here in this machine. Days? Hours? Years? In any case, it seemed almost like an eternity. She still stubbornly kept silent and unmoving, even as Greta's skillful imagination and hands performed unspeakable agonies upon her already tormented body.

She was feeling weak, and numbed. Her ferocious strength seemed to be a fading memory of another time. She couldn't even really feel the soft breezes any longer, all that she really felt was the pain she did her best to separate herself from. Sight and hearing seemed to slowly become irrelevant, as the Mask of Winters or Greta only used her sight and hearing to impress upon her that this agony was for her own good; her own purification. It certainly seemed as if that week in the sunlit lands was a dream, for she only remembered parts of it. Kale's amused look became more indistinct and dreamlike. Had it simply been a dream?

The Mask of Winters glided in with purpose then, and moved himself to look into her face from up close. She could barely feel the warmth-stealing cold from his mask any longer. "Why do you simply endure, instead of trying to transcend the pain and learn what I have placed before you to see?"

Her tongue felt thick and dry in her mouth. She doubted she could give a reply even if she wanted to. She chose not to try, and instead look past the Mask of Winters, staring at the ceiling.

His eyes seemed to narrow behind his mask. "My patron is becoming impatient. It wishes to see you reach this level of understanding sooner, rather than later. Perhaps it disapproves of my rather gentle methods of doing so."

Rosethorne couldn't quite hide her look of utter incredulity. On the contrary, this was far, far worse than the month she had previously been trapped here, to be tortured at her captor's whim.

The Mask of Winters spoke, as if reading her thoughts. "I am trying to help you to learn and see what you must learn and see in the most direct method possible, and yet you resist. Why?"

Rosethorne said nothing, returning her face to a neutral look, staring at the ceiling once again. The Mask of Winters stood upright, and seemed to give her a baleful gaze. "Very well. Just remember that my ways of helping you to transcend your own frailties are but a caress next to what my patron will do to you. It will show you the error of your thinking far faster than I would, as I believe the person must reach their own conclusions, and learn by themselves. My patron is not as...merciful."

Rosethorne barely had time to swallow before the world went black. She realized with a start that she was no longer bound to the contraption; her arms, legs, and body were free. But this happy realization was short-lived, as she realized she was falling. She seemed to be falling through pure, inky blackness, her eyes unable to penetrate even the shortest distance in the gloom.

The Mask of Winters smiled behind his mask as he saw the torture chair suddenly vacant. He glided back into his throne room, seating himself comfortably on his throne. He smiled wider as he knew that the errant Abyssal was no longer his concern, though his patron would give him back the pure Abyssal Essence of her when it was finished with her.

He gave into a dusty chuckle as he could only imagine the torment that awaited her. He had heard of only one other being falling foul of a Malfean's wishes, and that being was the first Deathlord; far older and far more resilient than a pitiful Abyssal could ever be. He knew that his patron would prolong her agony as long as it wished, and it was no longer a matter of her resisting. It was now a matter of how long his patron wished her agony to endure. He gave into loud, wheezing laughter.

He never noticed the innocuous, silent figure darting through his throne room, and behind his chair. Into the Malfean Labrynth.

With a sickening squishing noise, she hit a surface. With growing horror, she realized that she had fallen onto a huge group of large, primeval snakes, all as black as the darkness around her. She feebly tried to escape the uncountable serpents, but they seemed to move as if controlled by a single hive mind. They wound around her legs and arms tightly, slamming her back down with breath-stealing force, and holding her there.

To her rising panic and horror, she felt two smaller snakes worm their way into her ears. Two more bit deeply into her eyes, turning the inky blackness around her into a universe of sparkling lights. One forced itself into her mouth as she opened her mouth to scream, the primordial serpent sinking its fangs deeply into the back of her tongue.

Two more burrowed into her hands and up into her forearms, biting into the bone. Two snakes burrowed into each of her thighs, one biting into the bone, the other into the muscle of her leg. One snake burrowed into each of her feet, gnawing their way up into her calves. Even though there were two snakes with their fangs still in her eyes, her eyebrows widened as she felt herself invaded by two more snakes.

A voice seemed to crawl from the mouths of the snakes in her ears. This voice seemed to change from a baleful whisper that made her want to die no longer endure hearing it's hateful caress into her mind, into a loud scream that made ever nerve in her body that was still able to feel recoil in horror. "yOu ARe mINe NOw, cHIld oF tHe abYsS. yOur esSENcE cAnNOt hIDe yoUr mInD FRoM mE anY lONgEr, AnY loNgER. YOU ArE MINe, NoW!"

The voice sounded almost exultant. She knew within the depths of her soul that this thing was older, far older, than even her Deathlord. If she was able to shed tears before this, the venom in her eyes made them swell large enough to prevent her tear ducts from working at all. She couldn't scream, as even that small luxury was taken from her. Her nose had not been invaded, but this meant that since all her other senses were so suddenly dulled, the reek of decay and death around her was almost too strong to bear.

Even so, she knew what she must do in order to avoid going quickly insane from the pain and indignity. She concentrated on her breathing, slowly entering mediation.

"yOu cANNot rEtrEaT iNto yoUr mInd, rOSEthOrnE. YOuR miND is MinE to dO wiTh aS I wIsh!" The voice seemed to try pulling her back out of her mediation, but she stubbornly kept going.

" _It may have entered your mind and body, but it cannot claim your soul. Not until you give in._ " His voice was soft, but she knew from feeling it that he was speaking directly into her soul. This was as close and direct as communication could ever be, realizing that her body's hearing was now taken over by this...thing.

In her mind, she smiled. She still felt the horrific pain and swelling agony that beat through her like a second heartbeat, but it was more at a distance now; enough to concentrate on other things.

"dO nOT LIStEn tO ThE liEs of An olD fOol. YoU arE bEYond rEdemPtiOn nOw, cHilD. tHe ONly thInG tHaT cAn sAVe YOu noW is rEAliZIng thAT i aloNe cAN giVE you rELeASe anD tRAncENdanCE, RElEAse AnD tRanCENDancE!"

She heard her Essence's voice again, but in her ears. " _I'm sorry, but I cannot save you. Resistance is useless, as the Malfean has you now. Just pray it doesn't take long._ "

Rosethorne heard the same voice, but echoing through her very soul. " _Though it's a little late to remind you of your promise, don't give up yet. Someone comes._ "

Her mind was awhirl. Which was the real voice? Which did she want to be the real voice? She heard his voice in her ears once more. " _A Malfean trick, don't listen. There is nobody coming to save you now. Don't hold onto foolish hope._ "

His voice again came to her, echoing softly and less forcefully than the one in her ears. " _Choose which voice is real after I give you my sight. See for yourself._ "

Past the crashing fireworks that danced in the darkness of her corrupted and fouled eyes, she saw...something else. She focused on it, and though it was strange, it was an image. She could see all around her in this dark, huge chamber, but she couldn't focus in on any one area. She saw one large sarcophagus, which she knew she was held within and under. But what...something...something was moving just beyond the edge of her vision, and it was growing closer.

His voice echoed in her ears again. " _Don't you see? It's just trying to give you hope to destroy it! It wants to give you something to pin far-fetched hopes on, just to shatter them later. Don't listen!_ "

The voice that made her want to be anywhere but here spoke up again, seeming to echo throughout her mind. "fOR oNCe i aGRee wIth tHe wEak fOOl wHo gAVe yOu eXALtAtiOn. hE bEgINs to sEe hIs fOLly!"

Her Essence's voice in her ears paused a moment, and agreed. " _Yes, I was wrong to have chased a fool's dream. Don't make my mistake, Rosethorne._ "

Even through the conversation, she still concentrated on the image. The figure was darting swiftly and silently into the chamber now. She could see the figure's face now, and her eyebrows widened in surprise. What did Kale think he was doing here?

Her Essence's voice filled her ears once more. " _It's a trick of the Malfean, don't you see? He's giving you a false image that springs from its own imagination!_ "

She noticed with deepening gloom that she hadn't heard his voice within her soul any longer. Perhaps the voice she heard of his in her ears was the true one. But then, she heard it. His voice was strained, and soft. " _Decide for yourself. You see how I am able._ "

The Malfean's grating voice seemed to echo throughout her mind, and throughout the entire chamber. "fOoL! HOw dArE YOu INvAde mY chAmbERS!"

In the vision, she saw Kale replying, his face a stony mask of determination. "Give her to me, and I'll leave."

"THe FoOL DArEs tO AsK FOr WHaT hE cANNoT haVE! GrEeT MY rEWaRd fOR sUCH aUdAcITY!"

Rosethorne shuddered as a huge figure seemed to congeal from the shadows in the center of the room. She recognized him, even in the vision. He was an Abyssal, if in name only. His body was huge, far larger than any human had a right to be, with hugely muscled oversized arms. She had only seen or heard of him twice, but he was said to be able to tear soulsteel swords and other weapons like paper with his bare hands. There were rumors that this Child of Oblivion was actually much older than the five years other Abyssals had been in existence, though his exact age of Exaltation was a matter of pure conjecture.

The huge, hulking figure appeared in the dead center of the room, his giant-like frame growing slightly larger and smaller as he breathed audibly. Kale turned his head slightly to the giant Abyssal, and spoke in clipped tones. "Get out of my way. Now."

The behemoth of a man just stood there, growling menacingly from deep within his cavernous chest. His growl slowly grew in volume, just before he rushed with shocking speed at Kale. Unable to blink or avert her eyes, Rosethorne watched with horrified fascination as the giant Child of Oblivion swung his massive fist at Kale...who was suddenly no longer there.

Her eyes widened again slightly, ignoring the voices seeming to crawl into her ears, and concentrating on the vision alone. She noticed with surprise that Kale was suddenly near the sarcophagus, looking concerned at the huge size of the lid. A small, grim smile flitted about his mouth briefly as he looked away from the sarcophagus, and toward the giant Abyssal. "Hey, you fatass bitch! Over here!"

With a roar that shook even the ancient soulsteel stones of this room, he charged at Kale, and swung another massive fist at where Kale's body was. Rosethorne wanted to close her eyes, to not see him get killed...But Kale was once again no longer there, the giant's fist slamming deep into the stone lid of the sarcophagus. The lid broke with an audible crack, one of the halves falling backward and off the coffin.

She noticed with further surprise that Kale was now on the other side of the room, grinning at the highly angry Abyssal, who promptly rushed at him. Kale's voice seemed to echo throughout the room as the Abyssal's fist met nothing but air, and the barely-yielding rock. "Never fought a ghost, huh fatass?"

Kale seemed to reappear in front of the huge stone opened sarcophagus, looking intently inside. From her point of view, she was looking at the back of Kale's head as he looked within the huge stone coffin. Her eyes widened again as she saw some of herself past him, and she saw the snakes that covered every inch of her body. Her still-poisoned abdomen gave a lurch at the sight.

The huge Abyssal had now reached the other side of the room, and was looking around, bewildered. Kale yanked out his huge blade, which now seemed to glow; softly at first, but brighter, and brighter still, filling the room with a strong, soft golden light. The snakes bit deeply into every part of her body, within and without, trying to hold on. He moved the blade closer, and the snakes as one withdrew from her body, hissing angrily as they retreated to the deeper parts of the coffin.

She couldn't see his face from her point of view, looking down, but she could see the slight shudder that went through him once he saw her body. He set his jaw determinedly as he grabbed her, pulled her out of the primordial snake-filled sarcophagus, wrapped her in his cloak, and promptly began rushing for the exit.

She felt her senses slowly returning to her body, the sense of each swift step seeming to jar her entire being as Kale ran. She still couldn't hear or see, let alone speak, but somehow she knew the giant Abyssal had seen Kale. His roar of anger seemed to make her entire body shake, with each vibration of his huge footfalls growing stronger, and stronger still.

Her sense of touch slowly returned, and she felt Kale's arms around her, cradling her within his cloak. "This must be another dream..." she thought to herself, as darkness claimed her.


	36. Night's Long Road from the Deadlands

Long, silent strides kept Kale going at a furious pace out of forbidding snake thing's mausoleum, and away from the giant smelly thing that might have once been human. The monstrosity's huge, booming footsteps grew more and more faint as he ran, but he didn't slow down in the least. The hulking monstrosity could probably take him apart rather simply with his gigantic hands. If the hulking brute managed to catch him, that is, which wasn't going to happen.

Looking at his surroundings as he bolted out of its lair, he began to despair as he realized that this strange labyrinth had changed itself since he had run into this place. Even though Melia had been able to give him warm or cold feelings to help lead him to Rosethorne unerringly, he had checked the path he had taken carefully. Now that he had found her, however, he had no such compass to find his way back out, and the labyrinth had changed. Kale gritted his teeth in frustration.

Seeing a large, column-like structure, Kale ducked behind it to get his bearings, and re-adjust the precious cargo in his arms. He didn't hear the great, shuddering footsteps of the fat behemoth anymore, so he hoped he was safe for now. Even so, he didn't rest for very long. Kale checked on Rosethorne, being gentle and careful, so as to not to jar or bump any wounded part of her. She was asleep now, for which he was thankful, though he couldn't get the image of her covered and filled with snakes out of his mind. He shuddered again at the thought, shaking his head. He didn't understand why she had been treated this way, but he didn't care what the reason was. Nobody should have to go through that.

Just to reassure himself, he felt for a pulse on her wrist. There was one, but very soft. He wondered worriedly if that was normal for her, being half-dead as she normally was plus being actually half-dead from her recent experiences. Her skin was cold, so very cold. Kale found himself hoping that she wasn't dying. Not after what he'd had to do to rescue her.

"Melia!" He shouted in his mind, hoping she could reply somehow in this deep place. He didn't hear or feel an answer from her other than a faint warm feeling, which didn't do anything to improve his mood. He took a few deep, slow breaths as he tried to calm and center himself, which worked somewhat. He adjusted his grip on the pale woman in his arms, making sure she was wrapped comfortably in his cloak before he took off again.

Long stone staircases illuminated with a hard, ominous light had replaced the long, gloomy, and dimly lit passageways of before. No matter which way he turned, he got the sneaking suspicion he had turned the wrong way, and was now hopelessly lost. He gave vent to his frustration and rising panic by kicking idly at an innocent rock, aiming for the yawning chasm nearby.

As the rock skipped out of the way, it seemed to rebound back in an arc, melding into a wall near Kale. He looked rather suspiciously at the rock-eating wall, noticing that lettering was beginning to appear.

"Give up one thing you call precious, and speak aloud your destination."

Kale glared at the inscription at first, and then relaxed as he thought. He frowned as he realized that he didn't necessarily have to give up on the woman he had tried so hard to rescue, but did have to give up something else he thought was precious. As he thought of the things he had on him that were precious, the list was depressingly short. There was Melia's strange sword, her trademark bow, and his bracer.

As he remembered Melia's bow, he sighed. It had helped him much more than once. Indeed, it had been partially responsible for traveling with the woman now in his arms. Kale remembered using it to lay low a good portion of her undead army as well, though he didn't know it was hers at the time. He smirked briefly at the thought, remembering their heated conversation about it afterward. His face quickly grew grim once again as his mind returned to the task at hand.

He ducked down to a crouch to rest Rosethorne's battered body partially on his lap as he took the bow quickly off his shoulder, and looked at it. He held it gently, and closed his eyes as he released the essence he had used to attune it to him. It seemed to dull and age as the essence left the bow, looking like a forlorn relic of a forgotten time. Which it was, but now it looked the part.

Shaking his head, he threw the bow over the side, and into a chasm. Kale called aloud, but not too loudly: "I name the throne room of the Mask of Winters!"

A low grinding noise filled his ears as one of the columns began to unwrap itself almost like an orange, changing into a spiral staircase to a door above. He gently picked Rosethorne's unconscious form up once more, and jogged quickly up the unwinding staircase. With relief, he saw the same arched doorway he had come into this place through, and began running toward it eagerly.

Hearing footsteps from beyond the door, he skidded to a halt, looking wildly for a place to hide. Finding another column somewhat near the door, he raced behind it and flattened himself against the wall as much as he could with the woman in his arms. His eyes widened slightly as he saw a figure appear. The figure wore a long, grey cloak, and a metallic mask that covered the figure's entire face. The mask had the image of a grinning skull on it, slightly misshapen. Kale's eyes narrowed and his jaw tightened as he realized who this figure was. The Mask of Winters.

Kale observed the Mask of Winters glide down the stairs, going the direction Kale had come only a short time before. He realized with a sinking feeling that the Mask of Winters and that...thing were probably connected somehow. If this was the case, then he had even less time than he thought. However, he couldn't help but glare at the back of the being that had been responsible for so much going awry in his life. Someday, he thought. Someday, there will be a reckoning.

As soon as the Mask went down the last step, Kale dashed silently toward the open door, hoping the doorway wouldn't change before he got there. Thankfully it didn't, and he appeared behind the throne of the Mask of Winters. He peeked out from behind the throne carefully and in all directions, listening intently as well. Satisfied that he had heard and seen nobody, he quietly made his way back out the way he had come.

There was nobody in the throne room itself, though his senses old him there were wraiths invisible to his normal vision. He closed his eyes, and shifted his vision. The lurch he felt made his stomach turn, but when he opened his eyes, he could perceive the wraiths by the doorway. He took a deep breath as he channeled a little more essence into masking his scent, any sound he made, and his life's energy. Kale hoped it would be enough to fool the wraiths.

Kale crept from behind the throne, and moved slowly to behind the nearby columns. He hadn't seen the wraiths move yet, which he hoped meant that they hadn't seen him. The rotes he was using depended upon him moving slowly to avoid being seen. He had to fight his natural impulse to grind his teeth in frustration at having to move so slowly, when he knew the Mask of Winters would most likely become aware that his former general was once again gone, and probably wouldn't be very pleased.

Like a gentle breeze in the dark, dismal place, he moved past the wraith guards, and down the stairs. To his rising frustration, he heard a patrol of guards coming toward his location. He darted into an alcove, and thought furiously. He gently stood Rosethorne up while holding his arms around her to keep her upright, covered she and he both with his long, dark cloak, and hoped that the group of heavily-armed guards that clanked by didn't see them. He breathed a long and silent sigh of relief as they marched right on by, allowing him to carefully pick up and cradle Rosethorne in his arms once more, dashing swiftly and silently out of the castle.

Soon, he had remembered the way he had come in well enough to leave via the side entrance. He stuck close to the castle walls as he crept as quickly as he dared back toward the Shadowland, and home. The large squadron of soldiers he had seen as he had swept silently into the castle were now gone, the grounds empty. Kale took another silent breath as he hoped that was a good sign. He kept himself flush against the castle walls as he moved as quickly as he dared without attracting attention.

Soon enough, he had run out of castle walls to hide behind. He knew that he would be searched for shortly, so he knew he had to hurry. What concerned him is that he was beginning to feel tired from all the essence he had channeled to make his escape successful. He knew he didn't have much left, and he most certainly didn't want to try drawing on the essence of this place to help him. Perhaps it was Melia's account of how the essence of this place had corrupted people she knew, but he was loathe to try, just in case.

Kale decided to simply keep his anima active slightly to stifle the senses of anyone looking for him, and hope it was enough. He took a few breaths to calm himself, and dashed into the open ashen plains, racing toward the Shadowland two miles away. As fast as he was running, he knew he had little time. This feeling was confirmed as he heard faint shouts of alarm, shortly followed by the angry buzzing sound of arrows flying through the air.

The first volley fell short, but he began to dodge and weave as he ran, hoping to evade his pursuers and continue not being hit. Angry buzzing noises like a flock of angry hornets grew louder as more arrows fell. Kale grunted as one of them found its mark in his lower back. The arrow seemed to be actually chewing deeper into his back as he ran, which nearly made him stumble in pain.

Kale felt that the arrow was moving slightly, and then felt it being yanked sharply out of his back, causing him to gasp in pain. With surprise, he saw Rosethorne's long, pale arm reached around him as he glanced down. Her eyes were still swollen closed, but her face was turned toward him. She made a hoarse croaking noise, which was the best she could manage under the circumstances, he figured. He noticed that she held her hand over the wound in his back. The wound hurt a bit more, and then a bit less before gradually fading away altogether.

Even afterward, she kept that arm held around him, looking sightlessly up at him. "Thanks, I needed that," Kale gasped as he kept running as fast as he could. She made another croaking noise in reply. More arrows fell around him, but thankfully he hadn't been hit by this volley. The Shadowland became visible in the distance, looking mostly like the surrounding ashen dark place, except for the uncomfortable and rather scary fact that the entire area seemed to move, shimmer, and twist. It's darkness seemed to undulate not unlike a heart beating. He shuddered again as he was reminded of what had lain within that large coffin, and shook his head to clear his mind of the memory. He couldn't afford to be distracted. Not now.

As he neared the inky, sparkling blackness of the Shadowland, he noticed that quite a few troops were stationed around it. He frowned as he saw them, and decided that the best and quickest route around them was through them. Reaching this decision, he pushed himself to run just a little bit faster, adjusting his grip around Rosethorne's body to keep a good grip on her. He saw with growing concern that the gem in his bracer was glowing only weakly and flickering intermittently, the essence needed to power it nearly gone. That meant that he was nearly exhausted as well. As if to punctuate this depressing discovery, a stitch of pain began growing in his side as he began panting for breath. The troops noticed him, pointing and shouting as he approached, but he was able to dart swiftly by the confused troops before they could try to stop him properly. The angry shouts rose in volume behind him, but faded away quickly as he outpaced them. Just a few more long strides, and he entered the Shadowland.

The life-stealing cold surrounded him as he fought his way through the tangible darkness. It seemed to give way reluctantly as he pushed through. He grimly kept running, pushing against the shadowy place. It seemed to push back, trying to push him back the way he had come, but he was running too fast to be slowed down too much. He fought down a triumphant shout as he saw the light on the other side of the Shadowland appearing distantly. It grew larger as he pressed on, giving him enough hope to push that much harder as he ran. Soon enough, he darted out the other side, right outside the walls of Thorns.

Kale immediately heard shouts of alarm, but he didn't slow down in the slightest. He darted into the smaller crevasses of the canyon, using them for cover as he navigated his way away from the fallen city. However, the stitch in his side had spread, causing his chest to feel like a fiery cavern of agony as he gasped for breath. However, he didn't dare stop until he was in a place where he could see people coming from all sides. He ran directly near the grove of cherry trees on the hill nearby. He smiled grimly as he remembered what had happened the last time he had been here, despite the growing numbness in his limbs.

For the second time in recent memory, he set Rosethorne carefully down near the trees. Had it only been two weeks ago? This time however, all she was wearing over her battered and horribly wounded body was his cloak, though he did smirk at the thought of not having to relieve her of her weapons this time. He gasped for breath for a minute or two, the stitch in his side slowly growing less insistent. When he had caught his breath, he checked on Rosethorne, making sure she wasn't hurt any more than she was when he found her.

Her eyes were still swollen shut, though the swelling had gone down somewhat. The wounds in her hands and feet were slowly healing. The blood from her ears had dried, the blood retreating back into her ears. Despite his concern, he didn't check the rest of her. Might as well leave her some dignity, he thought. He admitted that he felt the temptation deep down, but it would be dishonorable to do so.

She looked sightlessly toward him, and made another croaking noise, one of her arms mimicking the sign for drinking. Taking his canteen from around his neck, he gently poured a little water into her mouth. She swallowed, and grimaced before smacking her lips slightly. She seemed to relax a little, her head tilting to she side limply. Kale shook his head, smirking. At least she wasn't asking for blood.

His smirk vanished as she moved her head to look at him blindly once more, making another croaking noise that sounded something like "lud." Kale closed his eyes and shook his head, sighing. The things he did for dead damsels in distress. He looked and listened carefully all around him, and didn't see or hear anything nearby. There was a patrol of Immaculate soldiers arguing in the distance with a group of the undead soldiers. He hoped the Immaculate guard would stall the undead.

After noticing no immediate danger, he moved his wrist over by her mouth, making a grimace of distaste. He felt his wrist touch her cool lips, and he felt those lips open in response. He looked away, trying not to notice the feeling of her mouth opening slowly wider, and feeling fangs pressing against the skin of his wrist. He suppressed a shudder as he felt her fangs sink into his wrist, followed swiftly by her suckling gently. She stopped after only a few seconds, which surprised him. Kale's eyes grew a bit wider as he felt her cool tongue touching his wrist, gently licking where her fangs had been. He looked back at her, in time to see the last hint of her fangs disappearing into her mouth once more. She murmured a croaking "ank oo" before her head gently fell to the side.

Kale looked at his wrist wonderingly, seeing no scars or puncture wounds, though it was a little pale. He looked at her once again, smirking again as he noticed no blood around her mouth. Her breathing seemed to be becoming regular and steady, which made him feel more relieved. He gently picked her limp form up once more as he prepared to dash off once again. Now that he had caught his breath and Rosethorne seemed to be okay, it was time to leave.

But where would he take her that would be safe? "Hi, could you take care of this woman? I know she's stark naked and a bloody mess, and I can't tell you why, but could you treat her anyway?" He rolled his eyes as he jogged swiftly. Yeah, that would go over well.

Kale almost jumped out of his skin as he felt a cool hand lay gently on top of his arm. He glanced down as he ran, seeing Rosethorne looking sightlessly toward him once more. She tried speaking once more, coughed, and then said in a very hoarse voice, "Jus' take me to a quiet place, please. I'll heal."

He shook his head slightly in wonderment. Damn, this woman healed fast. "Alright. The inn at Ayodha should be quiet. Will you be okay there?"

She shook her head slowly, and somewhat painfully, it appeared. She coughed painfully once more before trying to speak once more. He ducked behind a few trees as he gently laid a finger over her lips. "It's okay, I remember. The resonance thing, right?"

She nodded gratefully, and squeezed his arm gently. He lifted her once more, exhaling slightly. Despite being an Abyssal and therefore half dead, she was a tall woman; only a few inches shy of being as tall as he was. He had to adjust his cloak around her feet once more to make sure they were covered, both for warmth and to keep her paleness hidden.

Kale frowned as he thought further. His cabin was probably out of the way enough, though Immaculates might still be in the area. He reasoned that they probably wouldn't be especially sympathetic to the situation either. He grumbled to himself as he thought, his list of options growing quite short. "If it's clear, what about my cabin?"

Rosethorne nodded slightly. "'S'fine." Her head rolled to the side once more, looking like she was resting once more. However, Kale noticed that she hadn't removed her cool, pale hand from his arm. He hoped that was a good sign. He didn't run at top speed through the woods he had grown up within, despite his knowledge of every shrub and tree in the area. Kale moved at a cautious, silent jog, making sure to look all around and above him.

Reaching his cabin was the work of only a few minutes, scouting around it cautiously the work of a few more. Satisfied that there seemed to be nobody around at all, he crept inside his cabin, his eyes searching the cabin for anything out of place. Satisfied once more at seeing nothing out of the ordinary anywhere in the cabin, he tried to get her attention with a soft voice. "Rosethorne?"

At first, she didn't move. After a moment though, she slowly turned her head to look at him sightlessly, her eyes still swollen shut. "Mm?"

Kale took a deep breath, hoping she would be okay with someone helping her with her wounds. "I should to look your wounds over, and see if you'll be okay before I go to sleep."

She nodded to him, which set his mind at rest. Somewhat. He gently laid her down on top of the covers of the big bed, and began making a mostly smokeless fire in the fireplace, as he didn't want to attract any undue attention. He checked on her periodically, satisfied that she was dozing. Once the fire was hot enough, he began heating some water for a bath.

Soon enough, the large tub was filled with hot water. He gently grabbed her hand to try waking her gently. "Rosethorne? I need to wake you to tell me if the water is too hot for you."

She moved her head to face him, even though her eyes were still closed. She nodded, and squeezed his hand gently. He removed his hand, and gently picked her up, still wrapped in his cloak, and carried her over by the tub. "Okay. stick out your left arm, and let it drop. Tell me if that's too hot for you."

Her long, pale arm slowly emerged from the depths of the cloak, and she squinted her closed eyes slightly in concentration as she moved it slowly downward, until it met the water. She jerked her hand back up much faster, and turned her head toward him. "'S'hot."

Kale smirked. Figures. He gently set her down on the bed once more, and began stirring the bathwater with a large cooking ladle to help it cool faster. He stopped once it was only a little more than lukewarm, and carried her back over to test it. She reached down to test it once more, and nodded this time.

He carried her back over onto the bed, and began unwrapping his cloak, now somewhat sticky with coagulated blood. The smell of decayed and dead things attacked his nostrils as the last fold of the cloak was pulled away, revealing her battered body in the darkness of the cabin.

Kale lit a lantern to look at her more carefully, shuddering as he saw what had happened to her in much better light than before. He saw the many wounds the snake-things had done to her, and a couple older ones as well. There was a barely-healed wound above her navel that seemed to bubble angrily with the same black substance he saw within her badly-wounded right thigh, which seemed to be broken. With a sinking feeling, he doubted the black stuff was there to facilitate healing.

He decided to take off his jacket, setting it on the wooden peg by the door. He gently picked her up once more, the coolness of her skin being more apparent now. He slowly crouched over the tub, letting her feet touch the water first. At first, they jerked back, but extended into the water. He gently lowered the rest of her into the tub, causing the water to begin swirling with red and black after she had settled.

Reaching for a sponge, he began bathing her. A tear formed in his eye as he helped clean her many wounds, his jaw tightening at the thought of even some of this being done to anyone, let alone all that had happened to her. He noticed she winced slightly sometimes as he gently moved the sponge over some of her wounds, so he made sure to be more gentle over those parts, especially her thigh. Now that it was clean, he could tell that a part of her thighbone was missing, and not just broken. He closed his eyes and shook his head, suppressing the urge to grind his teeth in anger at the thought of someone being so heartless and cruel to do this to someone, no matter the reason.

Kale felt her cool hand gently lay on his arm once more, causing him to open his eyes and shake off his reverie. She had her face turned toward him, smiling slightly. She spoke hoarsely. "Bad, huh?"

He nodded, before feeling like an idiot for realizing she couldn't see him. "Yeah. There's actually a part of the bone missing."

Rosethorne nodded slowly, though she didn't remove the hand from atop his arm. "I'll be fine," she said with a gentle squeeze of her hand.

Kale hoped she wasn't just putting on a brave face. Anyway, she was done now. "Now for the fun part: I'm going to grab your hands and help pull you up, but you'll have to help with your good leg. Okay?"

She nodded, and reached out her arms as he got up. He gently but firmly grabbed ahold of her hands, and pulled her slowly upright. Her leg shook slightly as she began standing upright, and began collapsing underneath her. He swiftly moved forward and held her upright with his arms around her waist, and helped her to stand.

For a moment, time seemed to stand still as their faces were inches apart. She moved her head forward and slightly to the side, softly rubbing his cheek with hers before laying her head on his shoulder. He took a silent breath as he gently picked her up once more, and dried her off before carrying her back to the bed. Pulling back the goosedown comforter and blue cotton sheet, he helped her lay down as softly and gently as he could, to avoid hurting her leg any more. Once she had laid down completely, Kale walked over to one of the chests of drawers, pulling out a few bandages.

He walked over to her, and gently wrapped her thigh, covering both the huge and deep bite marks left by the snakes, as well as the large gap where part of the bone had been removed, and replaced with the black, oozing liquid that burned his finger terribly when he had barely touched it. He turned his attention to her other thigh, noticing that it had the two large holes as well, though at least it wasn't broken like her right thighbone was. He finished his work by wrapping smaller bandages around her hands and feet.

Kale looked at her face for a moment before getting up once more, surprised to see that she was smiling slightly. He wondered about that as he got up to get a large green nightshirt for her, and carried it back to the bed before crouching at its side. "Rosethorne, I'm going to need to help you stand once more, so I can put a nightshirt on you. Okay?"

She nodded slightly, and extended her arms to him again. He clasped her hands, gently pulling her upright, and helped her into the shirt before helping her back underneath the covers. Her head hit the pillow softly, and her face seemed to relax peacefully. He smiled softly as he saw this, taking a deep breath as he realized that his mission was completely over. Making himself some tea as he sat down in the large, comfortable armchair, he thought about what the hell he had just done, and what the repercussions would be. As he finished his tea and set it on the table beside the chair, he settled himself back into the chair, losing himself in thought, and finally, in dreams.


	37. The Blind See More Than They Wish

As Rosethorne slowly awoke, reality seemed distant, somehow. She tried to open her eyes, but discovered they were still swollen closed. All she could see were random sparks of light behind her eyelids that flickered in time with the small bursts of pain.

To fight down her slowly rising panic, she took inventory of herself. She realized she could hear now, and smell, and touch. She felt calmer now, but still wary. The last thing she remembered seeing were two evil, primordial-looking snakes that rose out of the darkness to strike into her eyes, grimly hanging on. After that, being as reliant as she was on her sight, things seemed dreamlike.

Reaching out with her hands to feel the area immediately around her, it didn't feel like a place she was familiar with. She did feel overheated though, and soon discovered why - a large blanket was spread over her, which she carefully pushed away from her, leaving the much thinner and more comfortable sheet over her still. She felt her face, and felt a bandage over her eyes. She quickly took a tactile inventory of herself, and discovered bandages in several places, all of which matched what she remembered of those...snakes. But where was she now? Who had put the bandages on her?

Carefully inhaling and smelling the area around her, she detected scents of tea, and a small hint of lavender from her own skin. She narrowed her eyebrows as she tried to figure out why. Slowly, hazy memories came back to her. The bright light she could feel, but not see causing the snakes to angrily slither out of her. The feeling of arms around her, picking her gently up, and the regular jarring as the person who carried her ran. Yes, things were becoming slightly less hazy now.

She remembered the events of the previous night more clearly now, though it was strange to remember things without her sight. She fought down her rising panic once more, as being blind horrified her. She took a few deep, slow breaths, and her heart rate slowed down once more. She lost herself in the events of last night, trying to learn what had happened. Exactly what had happened was still hazy, but she knew that her Essence was right - she had been rescued, just as he had predicted.

Although she had felt the tiny hope that Kale would be the one who would have rescued her, she had hidden away the hope from herself, considering it a pointless exercise. After all, what would he have gained from rescuing her? Besides, she had made it a point not to rely on anyone for anything, lest she be let down, as she had been in the past. She came to believe as she was being tortured that since she couldn't escape, this was her fate; she deserved nothing else.

However, here she was, in his cabin. She heard his soft, regular breathing from across the room. His breathing almost sounded heavy enough to be considered light snores, but not quite. She experimentally moved, and found that her right thigh as the most heavily bandaged. Still feeling the black ichor fighting her body's natural healing process within the space where part of her bone should have been, she winced as she felt it lightly. Remembering her stomach, she felt it as well, discovering that it had been bandaged just as carefully. As she breathed and moved, she could feel the black ichor swishing around below her lungs, trying madly to devour her from within. Her body was holding off the decay strongly, but it would be quite a while before she was healed completely.

She felt around until she found the edge of the bed, and slowly swung her body around until her legs were over the side, feeling the cool, polished hardwood under her bare feet. She sat upright, ignoring the sharp pains in her lower chest from the ichor that seemed to intensify as she moved. She set her hands on the edge of the bed, and straightened her arms, preparing to stand. She stood easily enough at first, but the pain from her legs flared and awoke, causing her to collapse.

She felt arms around her, catching her before she hit the floor, and a chuckle from behind her. Her body tensed as she tried to identify the person, but relaxed once she heard his voice. "You could have just waited, you know."

He moved his arms a little more around her waist as he sat behind her, and stood slowly, helping her do the same. He drew the arm of hers closest to him around his neck, holding his other arm around her waist. He helped her to move slowly a short distance, and then helped her sit in a cushioned chair. She tried replying, but her throat was still swollen, and all that came out was a rasping squeak.

A warm cup was pressed gently into her hands. She brought it to her nose, and inhaled, smelling a rich, earthy tea. She heard his voice in front of her once more, speaking in soothing tones. "The tea should help relax your throat, and help you to heal."

She tasted it experimentally at first. It wasn't burningly hot, just pleasantly warm as it gently flowed down her throat. It tasted of many things she couldn't identify, but it tasted pleasant. Calming. She tasted it again, trying to identify the many tastes that seemed vaguely familiar. She tried speaking experimentally again, hearing her voice come out as slightly hoarse and rasping. "How long was I asleep?"

He refilled her cup before replying. "You were asleep almost ten hours. I take it that's a long time for you?" She heard him taking a sip as well. Somehow, she felt...comforted by his presence, in a way she couldn't explain readily.

Rosethorne took another slow sip before replying, beginning to enjoy the taste of this nameless tea. "I haven't slept ten hours straight for a very long time." This earned her a chuckle.

Moving her head down, Rosethorne began to feel a bit embarrassed. She was quite unused to doing what she was about to do. "Thank you."

She could almost see the questioning look in his eyes, before he replied in a curious tone of voice. "For what?"

She took another sip of her tea as she tried quickly to order her thoughts, finding them to be much less willing to follow orders than soldiers would have been. "For...the bandages. The tea." She spoke much more quietly now. "For saving me."

With her eyes sightless as they were, it was easy to imagine the gentle smile on his face as he replied. "And being willing to let you pretend to be a leech?"

Unable to keep a straight face, the corners of her mouth quirked upward. "I tried to be gentle, but thank you for that as well."

Hearing him chuckle quietly about it, she was thankful he wasn't angry about it, as he seemed to have had a strong aversion to it before. She took another sip of her tea as he replied once more. "Well, I figured you wouldn't have asked unless you really needed it."

She nodded as she finished the last of her tea, feeling her body warming pleasantly. She heard a splash of more tea being poured into her cup, in answer to the question she was about to ask. But why was he taking care of her like this? Why was he helping her? She decided she needed to know. "I'm quite grateful for you saving my life, but why did you save me? Why would you go to the Deadlands to just save me?"

The small splash of liquid being poured into another cup told her that Kale was refilling his own cup, as well. She couldn't blame him; this really was good tea. He paused for a while, apparently having the same difficulty putting his thoughts into words as she had. Or, more likely, he was deciding what parts to tell and what parts to leave out, as he had done in the past. "Part of it was that you were attacked and taken, right before my eyes. You had just saved my life, so it seemed fair to save yours right afterward, especially because what happened to you seemed far worse than what might have happened to me."

He paused for a moment, sipping his tea before he continued. There was a note of...sadness in his voice. "Besides, what happened to you shouldn't have happened to anyone."

Rosethorne's eyebrow quirked, even though her eyes were closed. "I find it amusing that you were willing to brave the Underworld, and even brave the Malfean Labyrinth itself, and yet you're having a hard time telling me all your reasons."

She couldn't see his face, but somehow, she got the feeling he was looking sheepish. "I think it's because I'm having a hard time dealing with the other reasons myself."

Deciding that this was the time for bluntness, Rosethorne took a sip of her tea, and asked him point blank. "Is it because you have feelings for me?"

She heard him take another sip of his tea before answering. "I find you attractive, yes, but also a little scary. In time, I could call you a friend, but I couldn't think of anything else until that point in time."

Rosethorne nodded slowly, as she discovered that this rather comfortable chair rocked back and forth. It seemed pointless to rock in place like this, but she found it oddly comforting. It made her stomach feel less queasy, for some reason. Her eyebrows narrowed as she tried to figure out this latest puzzle, being frustrated slightly at not having all the pieces. "If it's not that, then it must have been a very good reason for you to be willing to save a woman you barely know. What have you to gain by me staying alive?"

There was another pause, in silence this time. She heard him take a slow, deep breath. When he replied, it was in a soft, distant voice. "Most of it is because I remember you by a different name, long ago. Unless I'm missing my guess, you and your parents used to live around here, when you and I were both very young."

Her mouth dropped open in surprise. She thought furiously, remembering old memories. They seemed so distant, like they had come from another lifetime. A few memories surfaced of her as a little girl, playing with a boy about her age. A boy with unruly hair, who teased her, which caused her to promptly chase him through the forest, laughing all the while. Yes, she had another name then. But that name had been eaten by the Malfean. That name, along with her past, was dead to her as if it had never happened.

Noticing that he hadn't said anything while she remembered, she had to reply. She felt a little sad herself now. "I remember. But both that name and the little girl you knew are dead now."

Hearing him snort in derision, she smiled slightly. Even as a child, Kale had snorted like that when she or anyone else did something silly. "Alright, if she's dead now, she's still moving, sitting in my chair, and drinking tea."

She smiled slightly. "Is that your main reason for saving me both times? Because you remembered me as a childhood friend of long ago?"

"No. I saved you the first time...because the Essence within me told me you were...because she told me it would be a good idea, and I'd later find out why. Once I heard you speak, and saw you move, I remembered you. That's why I saved you the second time." His voice was gentle, and a little sad.

Her eyebrows narrowed once more. "Your Essence told me I was...what?"

She heard a sigh come from him, and a slight creaking of the wooden chair. He was leaning back, she guessed. "She knew there was already a sense of familiarity between you and I, but she wouldn't tell me what it was at first. However, she said that the Essence within you was...a good friend of hers."

Rosethorne was silent for a few moments, letting this new information fall into place, and hopefully form something cohesive. "Allow me to see if I understand. You saved me at the canyon the first time, after I had you shot at, because your Essence said she was a good friend of the Essence within me. You saved me the second time because you remembered me as a childhood friend, even after having not seen me since we were five and six years old?"

She could picture him nodding. "Yes."

Her eyebrows narrowed again. "Things can't just go back to how they were then, Kale. You can't magically turn back time to suddenly and happily have the girl you once knew as a friend once more. Too much has happened."

Her ears heard him chuckling dryly. "Yes, I'd guessed that, seeing as unless my memory's suddenly going bad, you were the living child of a merchant and his wife. I see you again two decades later, and you're leading an undead army. I gathered that quite a few things changed, yes."

A smile appeared on her lips. "You haven't asked what happened since the day we moved away yet. Why?"

"For one thing, as you said, you're quite a bit different now than you were then. I figured you'd tell me once the time was right."

She narrowed her eyebrows again. "Don't you care what happened?"

Hearing the light scrape of the chair against the floor as he moved his chair closer to her, she looked blindly in the direction she thought he was sitting in now. His voice was closer, but softer. "Of course I care what happened, Aya. You were a happy, quick-minded girl last I saw you, replaced now by a somber, cold warrior of the Abyss, no less. But just because of that, because of the many, many changes that must have happened between then and now, you'd need to trust me again before you felt comfortable enough to tell me. For that, I'm willing to wait."

Rosethorne shook her head. "Don't call me by that name. As I said, that girl and her name died, eaten by the Malfean you just saved me from."

He sighed somewhere nearby. "Sorry. It's still just taking a little getting used to."

She paused for a moment, sipping a bit more of her tea before replying. "You're right, many things did happen. But Kale, you need to let the little girl you once knew die in your heart, as she's died in mine. Is that also why you saved me? So you could help me to live long enough to hear what had happened?"

"That was part of it, yes. But I'm not going to let you die if I can possibly help it. Not after I've found someone in my life that hasn't been taken from me after all. You have to understand - before I found you again, I thought that everyone I've ever cared about had died, in one form or another."

Rosethorne finished the last of her tea, the last of her sleepiness disappearing with it. "So you saved me the second time for selfish reasons?"

She could almost hear his jaw drop. "What the...Are you saying you'd rather I let you stay down there to die? To forget that I met you again?"

If she had her eyesight, she would have been staring at the floor. "Maybe it would have been better that way. I deserved to die, Kale. I failed as a general, as a warrior, as a retainer for my Lord. Perhaps...perhaps I would have been better off as an Essence to help my successor."

Hearing him snort again, she turned sightlessly to look at him questioningly. "I'm not taking you back. If after you've healed, you really want to go back, then fine. I'll help you to live, but I will not help you to die."

She shook her head. "Why do you selfishly want to keep me around, Kale? You saved me to keep a childhood memory alive."

He took a sharp breath. His voice sounded annoyed. "Yes, I selfishly tried to save someone I care about. What makes me feel so frustrated is that you don't seem to feel the same way." He sighed, pausing for a few moments, continuing in a calmer voice. "Can you honestly tell me that you'd be happier back in the clutches of that...that thing, rather than being alive and knowing you have a better chance of living?"

That caused her to sigh softly. It would be so easy to give into the darker thoughts swirling around in her mind, but the dream she had while in the torturous contraption came back to her. She felt trapped between two opposites. "I don't know."

Kale was silent for a while, probably thinking as she was. "Until you do know, I'll be here to help you." She heard a soft chuckle again from him before he continued. "And before you say it, since I know you're going to, you're not a burden. Please stop thinking that you are."

She closed her mouth, slightly shocked that he knew. Was it that obvious? "I'm...unused to being taken care of. By anyone."

Hearing him stand, she turned in his direction questioningly. He gently took her cup, and held her hands in his. She wondered slightly at the warmth from his hands. "Come on. I need to change your bandages."

She stood shakily, and he slowly helped her walk back to the bed. Hearing him walk over and open a drawer, and walk back, she relaxed onto the pillows. Her mind was awhirl with so many conflicting thoughts and feelings. Feeling him gently remove her bandages and more gently wash the parts of her body they had covered, she had the sudden thought that though she wasn't used to being taken care of, it was preferable to being treated so impersonally by a chiurgeon. His hands and touch were gentle, though swift. He was finished putting on new bandages almost before she knew that he had started.

Relaxing into the pillow, a wave of tiredness overcame her. She felt warm, and comfortable. Before she drifted off to sleep, she heard his voice whisper to her. "Don't worry about the future now. Just worry now about getting better. Sweet dreams."

She fell back into dreams, feeling comforted by the feeling of knowing he was nearby.


	38. Chasing Away the Shadows by Force

After she had fallen into sleep once more, and after making sure she was sleeping peacefully, Kale sat back down in his comfortable armchair, staring into the fireplace. At least now he was certain of who she was, but the differences between the happy, energetic, quick-witted and sometimes mean little girl he remembered, and the somber, cold shell she was now was very difficult to reconcile. He had seen bits and pieces of her old personality shine through sometimes as they had travelled in the past, but only briefly.

Kale leaned back in the armchair, pouring himself a different kind of tea than the one he'd given her to help her sleep and heal. Setting back the clay and wooden teapot onto it's clay plate, he leaned back once more with the hot tea cradled in his hands. It was true, the question of what the hell had happened to her was burning in his mind, but he meant what he told her - he didn't want to press her. He'd far rather she told him once they trusted one another for her to tell him freely.

Sighing before he took another sip of tea, he thought back to long ago, when things had seemed wonderful, like the happy times would last forever. He remembered her parents vaguely; a tall, willowy pale man with short black hair, and his warmer, kindly smiling wife. He had almost thought of them as his other parents, because of how often he saw them. Kale remembered Aya with stronger memories; of her thin, coltish frame, her bright blue eyes which seemed to complement her pitch-black hair. It reminded him of moonlight over the shadows, looking at her face. He and Aya played and raced in the forest, him teaching her what little he knew of the forest, and what lived and breathed within it, playing games of make-believe. Kale smirked now at how both of them wanted to be the swordsmen in their games of fantasy.

He remembered very clearly the tears in his eyes when she and her parents packed up their wagon, and prepared to leave once more. Her form seemed so tiny as she sat on the back of the wagon, her legs dangling over the edge.

"I'll be waiting for you!" He shouted to her as he ran along after the wagon, with tears in his eyes.

"I'll come back! I promise!" She yelled with a smile, though her own eyes were teary as well. He finally just sat down with a thump onto the road, watching the wagon grow smaller in the distance. He knew she and her family left on trips that took her father to distant lands to trade. Somehow, this time seemed wrong. Something didn't feel right about it at all, but he wasn't able to communicate this feeling, as he wasn't very sure of it himself.

Of course, it became more clear what his bad feeling was when weeks turned into months, and months turned into years, with still no sign of them.

Until only a few weeks ago, when he grudgingly gave into his Essence's suggestion, and was struck immediately by a strong sense of familiarity as he removed her helmet, seeing her long, black hair and willowy frame she'd inherited from her father. Her attitude was much darker, much colder, much more ominous, but some of her gestures and body language was the same. It took him a few days to be sure, but soon, he was certain of it.

Kale took another sip of his licorice and arrowroot tea as he thought. It seemed so frustrating that when he had found her at last, the last person he cared about that was still alive, she seemed reluctant to live. It made him want to throw his teacup against the wall in frustration. When he'd found her at last, after twenty years of thinking she was dead or gone, she turns up again, filled in heart and mind with death. Instead, he sighed heavily, wondering when life would begin to make sense.

His thoughts were interrupted at an officious-sounding knock at his door. He narrowed his eyes, as there were very few people who knew the location of this cabin. He walked soundlessly over to the door, and opened it part way. "Yes?"

Kale saw two men standing on his doorstep, both clad in commoner's clothes. One had a shaved head and intense eyes. His companion was a tall, broad man with a grim face. Neither seemed to carry any weapons. The shorter one spoke up first, his voice sounding rich and deep, like what you'd expect from one used to public speaking. "Is your name Kale?"

His eyes narrowed a little more. He didn't like the idea of having to move to someplace even more quiet and out of the way than he thought his cabin once was, especially if his fears were true about these two men. "Who wants to know?"

The taller, grimmer man spoke up next. "We were drawn to you because we were told you needed our help. My name is Morjin. I am a healer, among other things, and my companion is Gordray, a man of the cloth."

Kale didn't open the door any wider, not trusting either of these men in the least. Not with what he had on the line, such as being discovered as a Solar, among many other things. "That's very interesting, but I think you have the wrong cabin."

Morjin spoke up once more. "Have you heard of the Sun blessing anyone before, Kale?"

Kale stopped himself from slamming the door, now suspiciously curious. "I've heard of the stories, yes."

The shorter man, Gordray, sighed with impatience. "Oh, by the Sun's light. This tiptoeing is pointless." A brilliant, golden disc appeared on his forehead, shining softly. "Do you know what this means, Kale?" This earned him a warning glance from his taller companion, but he seemed not to notice.

Kale relaxed somewhat. "Yes, though I don't know what Caste you're from." His grip on the door relaxed slightly, though he kept himself ready for anything at this point.

Morjin smiled slightly. "You must either be a very learned scholar, or a Child of the Sun yourself to know of such things." His own Caste Mark appeared briefly; a golden disc like his companion's, but the lower half was an empty circle, reminding Kale of a sunset.

Kale opened the door wider. "All right, come in. But please, keep your voices down. A friend of mine is wounded, and in need of her sleep."

The two men entered, Kale closing the door after them. He faced the two men, looking at each in the eyes in turn. "Alright, so what do wandering priests and healers want to do with me?"

Morjin shook his head. "I do not know, Kale. What I do know is your name, and that you are a Solar as well. My companion here was told by the Unconquered Sun himself that you were in need of our assistance."

Kale raised an eyebrow. "Uh-huh."

Morjin looked at Kale more carefully. "Were you told anything about what you are, Kale?"

Kale sighed, and sat down, inviting the two men to do the same. "Yes, I know what I am, I know what Caste I belong to, and most of the basics. However, I've never met another Solar before, so pardon my suspicions."

The two men seated themselves, Gordray looking over to the bed curiously, but not saying anything. Morjin spoke up once more. "Alright. This may seem nebulous to you then, but we often are given visions of things that must be done. Journeying here was part of my vision. What I do know is that the services of a healer and a priest are needed at this time, though I do not know why."

Kale nodded to himself, both men watching his reaction carefully. He spoke after a moment. "I'm not sure about a priest, but a proper healer would be handy, yes."

Morjin looked over by the bed, and looked back at Kale. "Is that woman the reason?"

Kale nodded. "She is...badly wounded, with most of her wounds far beyond my skill to heal."

Morjin looked inquiringly at Kale. "May I examine her? I'd like to know what I'm up against." He looked at his companion briefly, before looking at Kale once more. "My companion should also see, just to make sure that her illness and wounds aren't spiritual in nature as well."

Kale looked at the two of them for a moment before nodding. "Very well."

Gordray walked to one side of the bed, Morjin to the other. Morjin gently pulled the covers back, and saw the numerous bandages over her. He began gently removing them, and examining the wounds they hid, his eyebrows raising slightly. Kale noticed with some trepidation that Rosethorne stirred slightly in her sleep, though didn't awaken.

Morjin examined her carefully with a practiced air, finally looking up at Gordray first with surprise, then at Kale. "This...black substance in her stomach cavity and her leg. I've never seen it before, though it's corrosive effects are obvious. It's a wonder it hasn't done much more damage than it has."

This caught Gordray's attention, whose eyebrows rose as well. "It's a spiritual anger and hatred made manifest. It is by no means natural in origin."

Both men looked at Kale questioningly, who sighed. "She's an Exalt as well."

Morjin shook his head wonderingly. "These wounds don't look like they were received accidentally. It looks as if someone painstakingly did this to her." He looked at Kale questioningly once more. "She was tortured."

Kale nodded somberly. "She'd be dead now if I hadn't saved her."

Gordray looked at Rosethorne first, and then at Kale once more. "I can see two strong threads of familiarity and fate within you two. I can tell you are a Solar by your anima, though she..." He trailed off, as if trying to find the words.

Kale finished his sentence. "She's an Abyssal."

Both men's eyes widened as they looked at his grim face. Morjin spoke first, but hesitantly. "Then...how...did her own kind do this to her?"

Kale nodded. "They were going to torture her to death, as they considered her a failure. I wasn't going to let that happen."

Morjin shook his head as he examined Rosethorne a bit more closely before looking back at Kale. "Well, the good news is that she's an extremely fast healer. The black substance would normally have eaten her alive, but her body is regenerating slightly faster than it can corrode her. She will heal, but the substance will slow her healing greatly." He shook his head. "She should be healed completely within a few weeks, if I have anything to say about it."

Gordray spoke up, looking concerned at his friend. "What of the taint within her?"

Morjin's bushy eyebrows narrowed questioningly. "The black ichor is a spiritual taint as well?"

Gordray shook his head, uncertain. "I do not know. However, I do know that there is taint that holds her healing at bay far more than it should."

Morjin nodded slowly, then both men looked at Kale. Morjin spoke up. "If my companion is correct, and he usually is about these things, the taint within her should be purged as soon as possible to help insure her healing."

Kale looked at Rosethorne as she slept on, oblivious to the conversation that raged quietly around her. She seemed even more pale than normal as she lay there, unmoving. She seemed...smaller, somehow, as if a great weight was making her shrink within herself. Kale knew that this wasn't the case, but he couldn't help but imagine it. Finally, he nodded tersely.

Gordray raised his head and arms to the ceiling, as he began chanting softly, his eyes closed. He paused for a few moments, his lips still moving, though no sound was heard. Finally, his entire body seemed to glow slightly, his Caste Mark appearing like a large golden dot on his forehead. "I call upon the taint and decay within this woman. I name you taint, I name you decay. Come forth, and face your reckoning!"

Kale exhaled a breath he didn't know he was holding after a few moments, but relaxed when he saw that nothing happened.

Gordray seemed oblivious, as he called again for her taint to come forth. "I bathe you in the light and love of the Sun. I bless you with peace and rest. Come forth, and be released."

This time, Rosethorne's entire body seemed to tense as her Caste Mark appeared - a bloody black sun surrounded by twelve equal black spokes in the center of her forehead. Her Mark began to bleed, as her mouth opened. The voice Kale heard was not hers; it sounded like a deep, gravelly male baritone. " _I hear you, priest of the sun. Do you dare to call upon me, to name me as taint?_ "

Gordray stiffened, though his eyes didn't open. "For this woman to be healed, the shadows within her must be purged. If you are what causes her harm, I command you to leave."

Rosethorne spoke again, in the same eerie deep voice. " _And what do you know of shadows and harm, overzealous priest? I have seen and experienced both in far greater measure than you could have ever imagined in your entire lifetime._ "

Morjin began to look concerned and uneasy, looking at Kale. "I've never heard any taint speak back to him before. I hope this is normal for Abyssals."

Kale looked more and more concerned as he watched the three of them, Rosethorne in particular. He watched with concern as a trail of blood began to flow toward her eyes. Morjin was ahead of him though, and gently wiped it away with a clean cloth.

Gordray, with his eyes closed, was oblivious to this. He continued determinedly. "If you are what selfishly and evilly causes her harm and torment, I call upon you to leave, spirit!"

Rosethorne laughed, a deep and eerie noise coming from her. " _I gave her the power she has now, priest. Without me, she would be dead._ " The voice paused, her mouth turning into a frown, before continuing in a softer voice, though just as strange and unsettling. " _Perhaps it would have been better if she had died, and I had never given in._ "

Gordray began to look irritated, despite how his eyes were closed. "I do not ask for riddles, spirit. Leave her in peace!"

Her body sighed heavily, her jaw setting as more blood flowed from her Caste Mark. " _I did not ask you for a confession, priest. But...perhaps you are right. She would be better off without me, and all the darkness I contain._ "

The room darkened swiftly, the gloom nearly impenetrable even for Kale's keen eyes. Gordray's voice sounded shrill in the darkness. "Morjin! Contain the shadows!"

The room began to slowly lighten again, the shadows coalescing into an inky black sphere between Morjin's hands, revealing the veins on his face as he strained to contain it. A strange thing hovered above Rosethorne's body, partially golden, and mostly inky black. More of the black fell away, before it seemed to collapse in on itself, disappearing swiftly.

Rosethorne's body relaxed, her Caste Mark fading away, though the blood and scabs remained on her forehead. She was breathing regularly again, which made Kale feel a little better.

Morjin examined her once more with deep concentration. Suddenly, he stopped, looking at both Kale and Gordray with wide, shocked eyes. "Her Essence is gone! She is an Exalt no longer!"

Dead silence filled the room, soon broken by a moan of pain from Rosethorne. Morjin looked swiftly back at her, seeing the black substance that had previously been contained within her leg and stomach was now spreading outward, bubbling maliciously as it began to devour her. His hands glowed as he pressed down on the two wounds, causing them to close slightly. Perspiration began to appear on his brow, followed swiftly by his Caste Mark appearing and his anima blazing forth with soft blues and gold colors, shimmering slightly in the soft sunlin cabin.

He paused, and looked at the two of them. "The substance is no longer held in check by her healing. It will take all my skill just to contain it." He shook his head, taking a deep breath before looking at Kale and Gordray once more. "However, she'll be in for quite a shock once she awakens." He glared briefly at Gordray, who didn't notice.

Kale, however, wasn't so polite. "Just what the hell is wrong with you?" he yelled at Gordray. Gordray looked up, surprised and shocked. Kale looked at Morjin, continuing with an undercurrent of anger. "Morjin, I don't mind if you stay, since she'll need all your skill to keep her alive, and I'll be grateful to you if you do." He turned again to Gordray, the undercurrent of anger in his voice becoming a rising tide. "Your friend, however, should leave before something really bad happens to him!"

Gordray stammered, shocked. "But...but I helped purge the taint from her!"

"Wrong, fool!" Kale snarled. "You just convinced her Essence to leave, which means without Morjin's help, she's going to die from the wounds and poison in her body. Get the hell out of my house!"

Morjin spoke up quietly. "Please, forgive my friend. He meant no harm."

Kale continued, the helpless rage in his voice softening slightly. "Yeah, well he caused some serious harm anyway. At this point in time, I'm really tempted to return the favor."

Gordray's mouth opened in righteous indignation. "Is this how you treat a preacher of the Unconquered Sun?"

"No," Kale growled. "It's how I treat a fool who could very likely cause a very close friend of mine to die."

Morjin spoke up again, quietly. "If he is unwelcome here, then where shall he stay?" Gordray looked at his companion in shock.

In a softer, but still irritated voice, Kale spoke again. "There's an Inn at Ayodha, a few miles northwest. Go right ahead and preach or purge there all you want."

Gordray walked with head held high toward the door. Before he left, he turned to look back at Kale with a righteous expression. "You should thank me for cleansing an Abyssal of Oblivion's taint."

"You should thank me for not stabbing you in the face!" Kale snarled at him.

Gordray left the cabin, slamming the door behind him. Kale took a deep breath as he tried to calm himself down, but he was just too angry. Morjin's voice caught his attention.

"She will live, if I have anything to say about it. However, I ask that you apologize to my companion once your friend is healed. I know he did something that was foolish in retrospect, but he's exorcised quite a few wraiths from possessing people; he had no way of knowing her Essence would leave."

Kale nodded, his jaw still clenched. "Fine. If she lives, then I'll apologize to the pompous, shortsighted, overzealous, self-righteous fool."

"Kale?" Her voice was unmistakable, even as quiet and shaky as it was.

He was at the bedside in a heartbeat, holding her hand between his. "I'm here."

Morjin stood quietly. "I'll go show my companion to the Inn. I'll return in the evening." He quietly left the cabin. Kale was silently grateful, as Morjin seemed to know that he and Rosethorne needed some time alone to speak.

Kale nodded absently, still looking at her. She spoke again, quietly. "I can't hear or feel my Essence anymore. I feel...I feel so much weaker."

He just squeezed her hand gently between his, not knowing what to say.

Rosethorne's chin quivered briefly before returning to its previous stillness. "Tell me you didn't do this on purpose, and I'll believe you."

Kale pressed her hand to his forehead, a tear threatening to fall from his eye. "I swear to you on everything I hold dear that this didn't happen on purpose. These two men came to my door, Solars both, saying that their services were needed at this time. The stupid one tried to purge you of your spiritual taint. You started talking back to him in a deep, eerie voice...then your Essence said something about you being better off without him, and left. I kicked the stupid one out of here, but the healer I want to stay here to help you."

She smiled slightly. "Indeed, feeling...empty and suddenly alone was what woke me, followed by you yelling at him."

Kale smiled back, squeezing her hand gently again. Her hands felt colder than usual, and slightly clammy. He gently blew on her hand to warm it, followed by rubbing it gently. "I'm not going to let you die, Aya." He noticed a tear fall onto her hand, which he just massaged into her hand, hoping she wouldn't notice.

She gently moved over on the bed, and patted the spot near the edge she was formerly sitting in. "Come on, sit down."

Kale looked at her questioningly at first, but sat down beside her. She gently moved her hands around him, and hugged him close, not saying anything at first. After a short silence, she chuckled softly. "Quit worrying so much, Kale."

He looked at her wonderingly. "Wait, aren't I supposed to be comforting you?"

She gently pressed his head down onto her shoulder, slowly moving her fingers through his hair. "I had a dream, a week before you rescued me from the Malfean Labyrinth. On one side of me, I saw a burning sun, so hot it burned my flesh. On the other side, I saw a lake made of shadows, trying to pull me into its depths. At my feet, I saw a dagger."

She paused for a moment, letting Kale digest this. "It's for the best this way, Kale. My Essence won't Exalt someone as an Abyssal; he's free now. I can't be turned into an Essence, as I don't have anyone to bond with. This way, when I die, I'll be free and safe." She hugged him closer. "It's what you wanted, isn't it?"

Kale shook his head slowly. "No, not like this." He wrapped his arms around her in return, careful of the bandages around her waist. "Just hold on until Morjin says there's no hope, okay?"

She chuckled softly, before wincing in pain. "You and my Essence were a lot alike, you know. Both of you spoke in riddles, both of you kept telling me to wait, to hold on. Don't worry, I won't go before my time. I'm just ready for it to happen."

Kale pressed his forehead to hers, as they used to do when they were children. At the time, it was supposed to help each other think, though this time it was more for comfort and reassurance. "That's all I ask. I'm not going to abandon you, so please don't abandon me before it's time."

Gently pressing a cold hand on the back of his head, Kale saw her smile the first real smile he'd seen from her for over twenty years. She answered in a whisper. "Okay. You have my word."

She was silent for a moment, before smiling again. "Did I hear you tell the priest to go rest at the Inn at Ayodha?"

Kale smirked slightly. "Yeah."

She grinned this time. "Isn't that still controlled and frequented by Immaculate Patrols?"

Kale grinned back. "Yep."

He was relieved to see her chuckle softly again, and falling asleep. He covered her with the blankets to keep her warm, before waiting with his tea in the armchair for Morjin to return.


	39. As Dusk Unto Dawn

Weeks passed, though Rosethorne was awake for only parts of them. It became a regular ritual for the healer, Morjin to come and repair the damage done to her by the ichor, and try healing the rest of her as well. From overhearing parts of some conversations between the two, the only thing keeping her alive was his skill as a healer, plus the rotes he knew as a Solar. He couldn't repair her wounds, only prevent them from getting worse. The ichor was actively working against her body healing.

She was gratified, however. Morjin's method of healing was soft, gentle, and non-invasive. He didn't use any surgical instruments in the least, which was a change from the chiurgeons she was used to. He also seemed to dull the constant pain she felt, which let her sleep restfully. She was grateful for it. However, she was secretly more grateful for the way Kale attended to her selflessly. He gently fed her soup and tea, bathed her, and tucked her into bed before she slept again. She was beginning to learn that all the times he had helped her, saved her, and taken care of her, he had never expected or wanted anything in return. All he wanted, she slowly realized, was to know she was alive and well.

Though she knew it was only delaying the inevitable, she was thankful for it. At least between Kale and the healer, they were making her dying very peaceful and comfortable. Though she missed the singing power through her body from being Exalted, she was secretly glad things had happened the way they did. She would no longer be controlled or subjugated by her former Deathlord or his Malfean patron, and neither would her former essence. They were free now, and losing her Exaltation, and soon, her life was a small price to pay for being truly free of their influence.

She put on a brave face for Kale, since he seemed to be affected by her dying more than she was. He seemed to cling stubbornly to the hope that she would eventually be okay, and wouldn't listen to her when she gently tried to tell him otherwise.

If none of her past had happened, if her parents were still alive and well, if she had returned from that fateful trip instead of being taken into the Underworld, she could picture being very happy with him. She and he could have lived a simple but satisfying life, such as what his parents seemed to prefer. She sighed. Perhaps next lifetime. She would make it a point to try to find him, just to see if they could have another chance.

An odd thing she began to notice was that her senses of hearing and smell were sharpening to compensate for her lack of sight. The healer, Morjin, smelled of herbs, grasses, and the evening sun. Kale, on the other hand, smelled of pine trees, soft breezes through the night-time, with a subtle hint of the tea he drank. She began to hear his stealthy footsteps, barely a whisper on the wooden floor. This amused her, since the hardwood floor had always creaked when she had walked across it in the past.

Though she couldn't move around much, she didn't mind. The bed was very comfortable, far more comfortable than any she was used to sleeping on. For as long as she remembered, she had slept on the packed earth, or on the grass, or on an unforgiving stone table. The bed contoured itself gently to her form, making her feel as if it were embracing her softly. She gave a soft, happy sigh. Oh yes, things could be much worse, as she briefly thought back to her recent stay in the Underworld.

Kale had left on one of his short trips, ones that took him out of the cabin for barely half an hour at a time. He was gathering more herbs and roots for the teas and medicines. With how quickly and efficiently he did so, it never took him very long to return with a sackful of them.

She decided to fall into dreams once again, comforted by the soft bed beneath her. She snuggled down into the pillows, pulling the blanket slowly over her. She felt so weak now, so slow. It was difficult for her to come to terms with, but she knew it was a small price to pay for knowing both she and her former Essence were free.

This dream was familiar; it was the one she used to have every once in a while as a little girl. She smiled in her sleep as she remembered. She was racing from her parent's wagon, over hills, past trees, in the time of day before the sun rose. It was always a challenge for her to see how far she could run before the sun rose, and she was running top speed now. Nothing seemed to slow her down as she ran. She crested a tall hill, her lithe legs pumping furiously as she ran. Just as she gained the top of the hill, the sun rose, beginning to bathe the world in its strong light. She smiled in satisfaction as she stood on the hilltop, watching it peeping over the horizon, and slowly rise.

Something was strange this time, though. The sun grew brighter, and brighter still, though she could still see. The morning world around her began glowing with the same soft brightness. She stared in wonder at the world around her, as she didn't remember this happening in this dream before. The world grew quietly brighter, and brighter still, until all she could see was the golden-tinged white light. Was she dying, at long last?

" _No, not yet._ "

That voice sounded so familiar, but yet different. She listened closer, even though the voice had come from all around her at once, a rich male baritone.

The voice chuckled; a rich, warm sound. " _Only a few weeks have passed, and you've forgotten me already?_ "

Her eyes widened in the dream. "I thought you'd left for your final rest!"

The voice laughed this time. It wasn't a mean laughter, it was a rich sound, full of good humor. " _No, I had unfinished business, you see. As you can probably tell, I'm a bit different now._ "

Her eyes narrowed slightly, her form shifting into what she looked like now, as an adult, though still wearing the same dress. "What happened to you?"

She could tell he was smiling, even though she couldn't see any figure of him anywhere. " _After I left you, I found that I couldn't hear the accursed Malfean's whispers any longer. Somehow, me leaving before it was time broke the connection._ "

He continued, after chuckling to himself. " _Of course, the best part is that the Malfean thinks you're dead now, though its angry that it couldn't trap you as an Essence before you did._ "

She decided to take off her shoes, and walk barefoot in the grass. If this was a dream, then she would be allowed to do anything she liked anyway. The feel of the cool, dew-covered grass under her bare feet was something she'd missed, she discovered. She returned her attention to the voice once more. "Then why have you returned?"

His answer was prompt. She wasn't used to him being so forthright. " _I came back to offer you a choice, which was the same choice I found that I had._ "

She narrowed her eyes. "And what would this choice be?"

He was smiling again. Somehow, she knew. " _The choice you need to make soon is whether you want to embrace life, or die, as you were hoping to do. Just two simple choices, though both have repercussions._ "

One of her eyebrows raised in question. "Repercussions, hm?"

" _Wanting to die is rather selfish, you know. Kale cares for you deeply, and he's proven it without words many times in recent memory. You're the last living person he's cared about, so he's not going to let you go without a fight._ "

Her eyes narrowed once again. "Speaking of selfishness, I seem to recall you leaving me alone with the infections and wounds I had."

His voice was softer, more apologetic now. " _At the time, I was convinced that you really would be better off without me, and all the darkness I carried with me that was extended onto you. You deserved better than that. However, my wife set me straight._ "

Her eyes widened slightly. "Your wife? Was she this "one" you kept carrying on at great length about, the one you kept lamenting about abandoning?"

" _Yes, the same one. After I'd left you, I found that she was very close by. In fact, she had Exalted someone you know rather well, and was the reason he rescued you the first time._ "

Her eyes widened far larger. "You mean..."

He finished her sentence. " _Yes, she knew the entire time that I was your Essence, though I was blinded and deafened by the shadows. I couldn't see or hear her at all, though a part of me could feel that she was out there, somewhere._ "

Walking in the dew-covered grass helped her collect her thoughts, now awhirl with explanations. "So, what happened to you?"

The way he answered told her that he had been waiting for her to ask. " _After I left, since the Malfean didn't have a hold over me any longer, I was able to start shedding the energy from the Abyss that had pervaded my entire being. For two centuries now, I had grown used to that energy as part of myself, letting the rest of me atrophy, which is precisely what the Mafean wished. Now, however, all of my taint is gone._ "

Eyebrows knitting in confusion, she couldn't help but ask. "So, what are you now?"

She felt his smile once more. " _I am what I was before I fell._ "

Losing his taint hadn't made him any less cryptic, it seemed, but she was able to understand what he meant, and the implications of it. "Alright, so you're visiting me in my dreams. Explain this choice you offer, please."

" _The easy choice is to wither away and die, as you're doing now. The harder choice is to face your past, to face and accept as part of you every wrong you've done, every terrible thing that's happened to you. Once you're no longer hiding from your own past and doing your best to bury the memories you'd rather not face, I'll give you the second choice._ "

Her eyebrows narrowed at him, even though she couldn't see him. "Second choice?"

" _Hope. And life._ "

She walked a bit more in the grass as she thought. His voice was silent, giving her time to think this through. The best thing to do would be to move past this whole mess and die, so that her Essence could Exalt someone more worthy than she of his gift.

She paused in her line of thought as she heart a stifled snort from him. "What?"

" _You're being negative toward yourself, and silly. Even though I was forced to give you the Exaltation the first time, I would have chosen you anyway if I hadn't been made Abyssal._ "

That made her blink.

" _That's right. Now is not the time for illusions. Don't delude yourself into making the wrong choice. Let your heart decide._ "

She walked further. Was it selfishness that made her want to say yes? Was it only the silly desire for self-preservation that made her want to live?

Stopping in her tracks, she remembered that dream once more. The pieces seemed so clear now. Her eyes widened as she realized the implications of each choice; of sun, of dagger, of shadow. The shadow was no longer an option, as she had subconsciously counted it out by being willing to wait for Kale to save her. Now, the choice was between dagger, and sun. She took a deep breath.

"Alright, I've made my decision."

She could feel his smile. " _Excellent, I was hoping you'd see. Are you ready to face your past?_ "

She took another deep breath, and stood straighter. "Yes."

* * *

Her surroundings abruptly changed, shimmering, as they reformed into that fateful day she and her family left on their ill-fated trip. She saw herself as a little girl sitting on the back of the wagon, a few tears falling down her face as she furiously waved goodbye to Kale. She watched Kale fall onto his knees, his voice shaking as he cried "Aya, no, don't go..."

Her mother hugged her close, kissing her on the forehead gently. "We'll come back, don't worry."

She nodded, and sniffled as she snuggled closer into her mother's embrace. "Promise?"

Her mother kissed her on the forehead again, and gave her a gentle smile. "Of course, Aya."

* * *

The scene paused in it's tracks as Rosethorne shook her head, closing her eyes. "I tried to bury this memory as much as possible, you know."

The voice answered back. " _You have to face all of your past if you want to continue unhindered into the present._ "

She nodded. "Alright. Continue, then."

* * *

The wagon ride was long, and uneventful. To save time, her father decided to take the Shadowlands path, near Sijan to shave a week off their trip time. Her mother was anxious about her father's choice of paths, but he reassured them both that as long as they stayed on the path, they'd be fine. He warned them strongly about going off the path, however.

Aya nodded absentmindedly, playing with one of her dolls, as she lost herself in her games of make-believe. It seemed no time had passed at all before the surroundings weren't sunny and bright any longer, but grey, dismal, and forbidding.

The wagon hit a bump, causing her doll to bounce out of her hands, off the back of the wagon, and off the narrow path. She jumped out of the wagon, running after it. Her mother noticed her absence first, and screamed "Stop the wagon, Jaras! Stop the wagon!" as she jumped out, intent on grabbing her daughter.

Aya saw her doll, a couple yards off the path, and into the hazy greyness beyond. She stepped off the path carefully, walking intently toward her doll. She knelt down to grab it, and dusted it off lovingly. Her head jerked up in question as she heard her parents calling her name. "I'm right here!" she called back. She was only a few feet off the path, why couldn't they see her?

Her mother materialized out of the gloom, her eyes wide with fear. "Aya!"

Aya stood up, looking questioningly at her as she began walking back toward the wagon. She was about to ask what had scared her mother so badly, when she noticed that her mother was standing stock-still, staring wide-eyed with fear at something behind her. She turned to look, and beheld the huge, ghostly, frightening figures behind her. They seemed to be smiling, though she somehow knew that there was no friendliness behind their smiles.

Her father ran up into of the gloom, looking wildly around for them, and calling for both of them. "AYA! SHARA!"

The ghostly figures smiled more widely, one of them having long hooks where teeth should be. The one with the hooks for teeth floated silently over to her father, and did...something to him. Her father made a frantic choking noise, and fell to the ground.

Her mother screamed in a way she'd never heard anyone scream before, and never would again. They were swiftly surrounded by the ghostly figures again. One of them spoke, in a terrifying voice laden with pure malice. "There is a penalty for trespassing, you know. So, little girl, which one of you should we take as payment for your crime?"

Her mother cried out. "No, leave us both alone, you've already taken my husband! Please, have mercy!"

The ghostly figure that had spoken before broke the silence once more. "Take both of you, hmm? Yes, that can be arranged."

The world went black as one of them rushed at her with inhuman speed, its huge jaws opening wide.

* * *

Rosethorne shuddered. "I tried my best to forget that."

" _You can't forget any longer. This happened to you; it's in your past, and made you who you are now._ "

She nodded, and the scene unfroze around them.

* * *

Aya and her mother were led forcefully to a dark, dismal place, with nothing but ash and dust where trees and soft earth should be. They were thrown into a large, run-down building, with other frightened people inside as well.

One of the wraiths spoke once more. "You will be kept here until you are ready for your fate. Rest well, and be sure not to allow your blood to spoil!"

The door slammed shut, all of them hearing something heavy being moved in front of the door.

Years passed as they lived in that little shack, eating when food was brought to them. Aya and her mother had been left alone for some reason, though they saw wraiths regularly come into the shack to take some of the people away, screaming. Sometimes, there were new faces brought in, looking as terrified as Aya and her mother had been the day they arrived. Sometimes, there were children close to Aya's age, but before she could strike up a friendship with them, they had been taken into the night, screaming and crying for their parents.

Aya's eighteenth birthday arrived and went, scarcely noticed by she or her mother. Her mother had seemed to retreat within herself in the last few years, moving only to relieve herself or eat. She didn't speak much anymore, just staring at the walls, as if silently hoping one of them would fall over, allowing her to leave. That small spark of hope in her eyes as she stared at the walls slowly died out over the years.

Aya didn't know what fate had in store for them, as it had been thirteen years almost to the day since she and her mother had been taken that fateful day.

The next day, they found out. The wraiths came in again, smiling mirthlessly as they usually did. They swiftly surrounded both she and her mother, cutting off all routes of escape. "Your fates have been decided. We do hope you've been comfortable and cozy while you waited."

They all laughed; a low, mirthless, dirge-like sound. As one, they all looked at her mother. "So, Shara, we leave the decision to you. Which one of you should we take to meet your fate?"

Her voice was listless. She had barely moved from her familiar position of leaning against the wall as the wraiths entered. "Take her, and leave me be."

Aya's eyes widened in fear. "Mother, what are you saying?"

She didn't answer, which brought fresh laughter to the wraiths. One of them spoke again. "Ah, so you would abandon your child to save yourself? How delicious!"

They kept laughing, a bone-chilling noise. Suddenly, they grabbed her mother, and dragged her out the door, slamming it behind them.

Aya sat down and hugged her knees, trembling. Barely fifteen minutes had passed when the wraiths came back. "Your mother wished us to take you instead of her. So, we'll take you and her!"

Icy, life-stealing hands grabbed her, and carried her out the door. Aya didn't scream, though a few tears streamed down her face. She knew she was going to die, as she had heard frightened, wary whispers from the others in the cabin about what happened to those who were taken. First, you were beaten and maimed, then you were brought to the castle to be drained of your blood and soul for the ghosts to eat. "We are nothing more than cattle to the dead things here," the man had said, five minutes before the wraiths came for him.

She was dropped unceremoniously on the ground, the wraiths backing away from her, though still surrounding her from fifteen feet away. "We encourage you to run all you like. Running makes the game more interesting!"

Aya turned to face the wraith that had spoken, looking at the inky blackness where the upper half of his head should have been. She stood stock-still, unmoving. Fresh laughter seemed to scorch her ears, right before they closed in on her. She felt herself being beaten with heavy blunt objects, cut with dull, rusty knives, and clawed with their cold talons. It seemed to go on forever. Just as she was about to lose consciousness, she would be struck in a spot and in such a way as to wake her up once again.

After what seemed like an eternity, they dragged her, the ashen earth seeming to claw viciously at her feet as she was dragged over the rough ground. She closed her eyes as she was being dragged, just wishing for it to be over with. She opened her eyes as they stopped, seeing a large, stone table with a bloody bowl beneath it. She knew immediately what this was for. But, they would never make her cower. She forced herself to walk over to the table, and lay down. The figure by the table made a rasping noise that might have been considered laughter, as her limbs were tied down roughly, her ankles and wrists slit. The noise of her blood dripping into the bowl reminded her of a waterfall, and seemed almost peaceful. The laughter, and talking of the wraiths began to grow softer, and more distant.

She felt something...dark, shadowy, muddy, and cold seep through her skin, and seem to hold itself within her chest. The masked figure spoke to her. "I offer you not death this night, but instead a chance to be trapped between the world of the living and the dead, gaining great power at my discretion, and spreading death to the living at my wishes. Do you accept such a gift?"

Feeling like she was in a dream, she spoke. "I accept."

* * *

" _You found out your mother had been given the Black Exaltation right before you did some time later, did you not?_ "

Rosethorne nodded grimly. "I don't hate her anymore, even though she gave into despair. However, she stopped being my mother the instant she became an Abyssal."

There was a silence for a time, as Rosethorne just enjoyed the feeling of the sun on her face and skin, despite this being a dream. She knew that when she awoke, she wouldn't be able to see. She treasured the feelings while she could.

" _Before I finish this, you need to see something. You need to see how Kale cares for you._ "

She nodded, as her vision shifted once again. She was looking through his eyes, she realized, as she looked down at her cold, still form on the bed, with Kale holding her hands. The healer, Morjin was shaking his head. "I don't know, Kale. She's been asleep for the past twelve hours. Her heartbeat is regular, though faint."

Kale squeezed her hand tighter. She could see a tear falling down his cheek as he pressed her hand to his forehead, and spoke to her in a whisper. "Please, Aya, don't go. Not yet. Remember, you promised!"

Morjin gently placed a hand on Kale's shoulder. "Do you love her?"

Kale nodded after a few moments. "She's all I have left."

The scene faded back to her dream, of her on the grassy hilltop underneath the sunshine.

His voice broke the silence. " _So, have you made your choice?_ "

She shook herself out of her reverie. "Which choice?"

" _You chose death before. Now, you have the same choice again. Which do you choose - life, or death?_ "

Her eyes closed as she took a deep breath. "I choose life."

Her skin felt warmer, more comforted. His voice was echoing slightly now, which seemed strange. " _Then I formally offer my gift to you. Do you accept, choosing of your own free will to be a Child of the Sun?_ "

Her eyes grew wide; at first, she thought she misheard him. He was silent, allowing her to make her choice. Finally, she nodded. "I gratefully accept, with my thanks."

The world swiftly grew a golden white color around her, the grassy hilltop disappearing rapidly. Her skin began feeling warmer, and warmer still. She felt like she should be on fire with how hot she felt, but she didn't feel burnt.

" _Before I finish this, you should know - the Malfean took your name because you allowed it to. It doesn't imprison your name at all. Take back your name, and accept your past._ "

She took a deep breath, and nodded once more. "I now leave the name Rosethorne, Huntress Clad in the Raiments of Shadow back to the Malfean from whence it came. I reclaim my name of Aya as my own, for all time!"

She felt her skin nearly burning from within, and without. Her mouth opened with a silent gasp, as she kept expecting the great heat to consume her, to burn her to cinders.

" _For too long, you have embraced and followed death._ "

She began hearing a low roaring noise that slowly grew louder from within herself, as a feeling of surging energy spread rapidly throughout her body, filling her with its glorious light.

" _Now Aya, embrace life once more._ "

The energy surging through her felt nothing like what it had felt like before. Previously, it felt cold, like it was stealing the warmth from her body as it surged through her as ice water might. Now, it burned and flowed through her with a feeling of savage joy, making her want to yell and scream her own feelings of joy to the entire world.

" _Arise, Aya of the Dawn!_ "


	40. Dawn Awakens Brightly

Rosethorne had been asleep ever since he got back, which worried Kale to no end. She just lay there, deathly still. He tried talking to her while she slept, hoping she'd wake sometime soon. As the hours passed, he grew more and more worried as she didn't even move in her sleep.

Morjin had come by toward the evening. He immediately saw Kale's worry, and examined Rosethorne thoroughly. "She's dreaming...and yet, she isn't. It's as if she's out of her body, communicating with something."

Kale stiffened, and took a deep, shuddering breath. When he spoke, his voice trembled slightly. "Will she wake up again?"

The healer, Morjin was shaking his head. "I don't know, Kale. She's been asleep for the past twelve hours. Her heartbeat is regular, though faint."

Kale squeezed her hand tighter. A tear fell down his cheek as he pressed her hand to his forehead, and spoke to her in a whisper. "Please, Aya, don't go. Not yet. Remember, you promised!"

Morjin gently placed a hand on Kale's shoulder. "Do you love her?"

Kale nodded after a few moments. "She's all I have left."

Morjin nodded back, looking thoughtful. "I think she's staying because of you."

Both men jumped when the room began growing brighter, and brighter still, with no visible light source. Morjin immediately closed his eyes, murmuring to himself. His eyes snapped open in shock, his surprised gaze meeting Kale's worried one. "She's talking with a spirit, though what kind, I cannot tell. The spirit is inside of her now, and that spirit is shedding this light."

They looked at Rosethorne again. Her lips were moving slightly, as if speaking to someone. Kale looked quickly at Morjin, the worry plain in his eyes. "Is the spirit possessing her?"

Morjin shook his head slowly, as he stared at Rosethorne. "I do not believe so. They are communicating, but not fighting. I feel strong turmoil from her, however."

Kale clasped Rosethorne's hand more tightly as he pressed her hand to his forehead again. "Oh Aya, please be alright."

As if in answer, she began to glow in tones of red, gold, and white. She opened her mouth wide, and screamed continuously, the sound filling the cabin. She kept screaming, not even pausing for breath. Both men looked surprised and shocked at her, as she began glowing more brightly, while a low roar began, as if in counterpoint to her constant scream. Rosethorne's hand no longer felt cold and clammy in Kale's hands. Rather, her hand grew warm, and then hot to the touch.

Even as her scream made it difficult for Kale to think, he couldn't help but believe that it wasn't a scream of pain, of loss, or fear. In fact, it seemed both defiant and overflowing with sheer, unbridled joy. She glowed more brightly, a golden disc with twelve evenly-distributed spokes appearing, and shining brightly on her forehead. The low roar grew louder, and louder still, nearly drowning out her scream.

Just as suddenly as it has started, she stopped screaming, the roar died away, and the glow faded. She took a deep breath, and sat upright suddenly, panting for breath. She squeezed Kale's hand as she panted for breath, her head turning toward him.

Kale was stunned. He was struck speechless as he looked at her, his mouth hanging open in shock.

With her other hand, she reached up to the bandage around her eyes, and gingerly pulled it off. To both Kale and Morjin's surprise, the swelling was gone, the puncture marks in her eyelids gone as well. She opened her eyes, and blinked rapidly.

She continued looking at Kale, and began to smile at him. She squeezed his hand once more, strongly, and let go. She wordlessly unwound the bandage around her stomach, the delight on her face evident as there was no hole, no scarring, and most importantly, no black ooze from her stomach. Her eyes open brightly with fascination, she unwound the other bandages, seeing that the same healing had taken place, even on her right thighbone.

She flexed it experimentally, while both men watched her in silence. She turned her attention back to Kale, looking at him with a look he'd never seen before from her. Her eyes held his quietly, as she moved her legs experimentally over the side of the bed, and with legs shaking slightly, began to stand.

Kale was at her side in a heartbeat, putting an arm around her waist to help support her as she stood. She didn't tense or shy away at the contact, but rather leaned on him slightly as she took her feet. He was surprised as she took his other hand in hers. Her grip wasn't cold, or even clammy any longer. Her hand was very warm to the touch, her grip's strength surprising him with its intensity.

She turned to face him while lifting her head to look into his eyes with a slight smile, her blue eyes seeming to sparkle. "I have good news, and I have bad news, Kale. Which would you like to hear first?"

Kale raised an eyebrow in question, but answered quickly. "Call me a pessimist. What's the bad news?"

She smiled a bit more widely at him. She didn't look feral, or even slightly predatory with the smile. Indeed, her face seemed to light up. "The bad news is that Rosethorne is now dead. I buried her myself."

He raised both eyebrows in surprise at her jocularity, but couldn't help but ask. "Okay, and the good news?"

She smiled softly at him, holding his gaze with a look he hadn't seen from her before. "The good news is that Aya isn't."

Kale couldn't help but feel a little trepidation. "And where is Aya now?"

She grinned at him, shaking her head slightly. "You mean, aside from looking up at you, smiling?"

Kale smiled slowly as he looked slightly down at her. "You mean..."

She interrupted him, smiling. "That's right. My Essence came back and made me an Exalt again, though not as an Abyssal this time."

Kale laughed as he shook his head, looking at her. "You mean..."

She interrupted him again with a grin. "Yes, I'm a Solar. You're starting to sound repetitive, Kale."

Kale wrapped his arms around her, laughing with relief. He stopped, realizing that he had probably invaded her personal space. To his surprise, she had wrapped her arms around his chest after a few seconds, and hugged him just as tightly. After a few more moments, she seemed to relax even more, leaning against him, her head on his shoulder. Her voice was very quiet, though her warm breath against his face surprised him again. "I have you to thank for it, you know."

The moment was broken by a quiet cough from off to the side. Both turned to look at Morjin, who was smiling himself. "Sorry to interrupt the happy moment, er...Aya, but I should examine you to make sure all your wounds have healed."

Aya nodded, smiling softly back at Kale once more before laying back down on the bed. She looked at Morjin impassively before speaking. "Alright. I'd like to know that I'm as healthy as I feel in any case."

Morjin's eyebrows widened in surprise a few times before knitting in concentration again as he examined her. Finally, he finished, and he looked at her, shaking his head with a small smile. "Well, I can confirm it. All your wounds are healed completely, with no scarring or trace. The black oozing substance is completely gone; I'm assuming your body devoured it to fuel your Exaltation. I can also say with certainty that not only are you an Exalt once more, you're a Solar now. Unless I'm missing my guess by your Caste Mark, you're the direct opposite of what you once were. From the Abyssal warrior caste of Dusk, to the Solar warrior caste of Dawn."

Aya smiled at him. "Thank you for the confirmation, Morjin." Aya stood once more, a look of glee briefly evident on her face briefly before turning to look at Morjin once again. "Morjin? Would you mind going to Ayodha and bringing your companion back here? I wish to thank him for what he did."

Kale's eyebrows almost climbed into his hairline. "What the hell? But he was the one who was responsible for you nearly dying! If you hadn't been Exalted again, he definitely would have been responsible for it!"

Aya turned to look at him as he spoke, and got off the bed to look at him in the eyes from a few inches away. Contrary to what he expected, she didn't look angry, or even cold. Instead, she had a small, soft smile on her face. "Despite his misguided intentions, he was responsible for helping to set in motion what happened today. If it weren't for him, my Essence wouldn't have shed the Oblivion that tainted his soul."

Morjin smirked. "It is good to know that my intuition was correct after all, though it did give me quite a start at first. Very well, I'll return in a few hours." He smiled at both of them, and walked toward the cabin door, before stopping and turning around once more. "I must say, I've never seen anyone Exalt before, other than my own experience. I feel honored that I could see it happen." He smiled once more at the two of them, before leaving quietly.

Kale shook his head wonderingly as Aya walked to the clothing drawer, pulling out a shirt and breeches that would fit her. She turned to look at Kale after she had found them. "Kale, I want to apologize to you."

Aya nonchalantly took off her nightshirt, causing Kale to hastily look in a different direction. "Apologize for what?" He hoped his voice was as offhand as her removing her nightshirt was.

He heard her chuckling quietly. "You've already seen me naked a couple times. Why so shy now?"

Kale scratched the back of his head, feeling a little silly. "Well, that was when I was taking care of your wounds and such. It was different then."

He heard her soft, light footsteps whisper against the hardwood floor. Suddenly, she was in front of him, with her surprisingly warm hands cupping his face, and forcing him to look at her. His eyes widened as she did so, causing her to smile in satisfaction. "There, now that I've proven my point and have your undivided attention..."

Kale couldn't do much else, other than nod dumbly. Wow, had she changed. She was...he barely dared even think it. Was this what she would have been like if she had never become an Abyssal? Her actions now certainly reminded him of the way an adult version of the little girl he remembered.

She began dressing in front of him, talking to him as she did so. "...I'm sorry for being so mean to you, Kale. I was unnecessarily vicious to you because a part of me remembered you, which frightened me at the time. There are many things I'm sorry for, but I don't regret them any longer, for they've made me who I am now. However, I still need to atone for certain things I've done."

She looked downcast and serious, the look on her face reminding him of the stony look she wore when he met her for the second time. She tiled her head upright, chin held high to look him in the eyes once more, a smile hovering over her lips. "However, those can wait for now. There are more pressing matters that need attending."

Aya walked closer to him, wrapping her arms gently around him. Kale wrapped his arms around her as well, feeling like he was dreaming. He could have sworn he was dreaming as she kissed him softly on the cheek. He thought inanely that her lips were much warmer than they'd been previously. She pulled away after only a few seconds, smiling softly at him. "Thank you, Kale. Thank you for saving my life for what is now the fifth time. I still intend on making it up to you, but not in quite the same way I had in the past."

That snapped Kale out of his reverie. "Like how?"

She smiled a little wider at him, gently stroking his face with one of her hands. "Well, for one thing, I plan on staying at your side both before and after I pay you back in various ways."

Kale's eyebrow quirked upward again. He really wasn't used to her being so...alive. He smirked at the thought. "'Various ways,' huh? Like how?"

Aya grinned mischievously at him, her blue eyes sparkling with mirth. "That I'll leave open to negotiation." She stood up on the tips of her toes briefly to gently kiss him on his other cheek before pulling back with a smile. "In the meantime, however, I freely invite you to ask the questions I know are sitting on your mind."

Kale smiled back at her. If this was indeed a dream, he hoped to continue this dream for a very, very long time. "Okay, first off - you don't need blood anymore, do you?"

Aya shook her head, smiling. "Not in the least. What's more, I can eat normal food now."

Kale grinned at her. "Good, does that mean you don't have to worry about that resonance thing anymore?"

She shook her head again, smiling a bit more widely. "Exactly. I can sleep in the same place as the living, now." Her smile grew just a little more.

Kale chuckled. "What about that...that shadow thing you did before, when you got mad?"

Aya shook her head a little sadly, though she still had a smile on her face. "I admit I'll miss that, but it's a small price to pay."

Kale felt like he was dreaming. To see her now was very strange. She still had many of the mannerisms he had become used to over the past few weeks, but it seemed as if...as if the person he remembered her to be was beginning to shine through now, making her less reserved, and more open about how she felt. This made him feel quite a bit better, because telling how she was feeling in the recent past was a challenge, to put it lightly. However, he had to ask, considering the recent screaming match she'd had with herself before she woke up. "Are you...as strong as you were before?"

She gave another small sigh, and lifted her head to look him in the eyes once more, looking determined, though a little sad. "No. In the past, I grew used to manipulating and channeling the essence of Oblivion, which flows very differently than Solar essence. It's going to take me some time to learn how to use it properly." Her somewhat somber face broke into a grin. "I do hope you're up for sparring more. I promise not to lick the blade this time."

Kale chuckled, grinning at her. "Alright. I'll go easy on you, then."

She laughed loudly and shoved him backwards, causing him to flop heavily onto the bed. Well, it appeared that she was just as strong as she was before. She finished laughing long enough to speak, taking a bow as she did so. "Oh, kind sir! I am indebted to you for your kindness in being willing to take in and train a meek, quiet woman such as myself in the way of the blade!"

Laughing himself now, Kale bounced himself off the bed, and back onto his feet, in front of her. He shook his head as he smiled at her. "It really is a wonderful thing to hear you laughing again." He grinned at her. "Even though quiet and meek you aren't."

She chuckled as she looked at him, one hand on her hip, grinning at him. "That was one of the reasons I said yes to being Exalted again, you know. Someone needs to keep you in line."

Kale rolled his eyes. "Psh. I was doing just fine. I was just waiting for you to get better so I could get you into bed."

Her grin grew wider. "Oh, but Kale - I was already in your bed."

Kale smirked back at her. "Good point."

They were interrupted by a knock at the door. Aya looked at him, smiling before he walked to open the door. "I seem to remember you promising to apologize to that priest if I got better."

Kale rolled his eyes and sighed. "Perhaps I should apologize to him about wanting to stab him in the face, too."

He heard Aya laughing quietly as he neared the door. "Yes, perhaps that might be a nice start."


	41. Night and Dawn Find Their Intertwining Path

Aya watched with barely-hidden amusement as Kale opened the door, and ushered the two gentlemen in. She could intellectually understand Kale's irritation at Gordray, but she hoped he would also see that what Gordray had done was necessary, in retrospect.

She quirked one of her eyebrows slightly as he behaved like a true gentleman, showing them two comfortable chairs. He got two smaller stools for himself, and looked expectantly at her with a smile as he set the other one next to him.

Aya walked calmly over to him, and sat down gracefully, earning a surprised look from Gordray, who hadn't seen her before she sat down. She smiled warmly at him. He was...a bit hasty in his judgements, yes, but she could tell that he wasn't an especially bad person. Kale might disagree, but he was welcome to.

Kale served all of them tea, and began speaking as he seated himself. His face was serious, and thoughtful. "Gordray, I want to apologize to you. What you did was necessary for Aya to become as she is now, though I didn't see it at the time. I also wanted to apologize for threatening you like I did."

Gordray looked at both Kale, and her back and forth, still somewhat surprised. After a few moments, he inclined his head with a very self-assured air, and answered. "You are forgiven, Kale. However, I'd like to suggest you keep a better reign on your temper after this."

Kale smirked, but said nothing. Gordray turned to look at her, and asked the question she could tell had been eating away at him. "Forgive me for asking...er, Aya, but how do we know you won't be seduced again by the darkness and become an Abyssal again? Such darkness is difficult to let go of." He took a sip of his tea, and nodded approvingly.

Aya couldn't help but smile. "No, I've had quite enough of that. I came to know all of what being an Abyssal entailed, and had even grown used to it. However, the ways and views of those in the Underworld are inherently flawed. The dead don't seem to understand that without the thoughts and ceremonies of the living, they would quickly fade away altogether. Life is much more precious." As she said the last, she turned to look at Kale briefly with a soft, warm smile. Would he ever know just how much he had helped?

She turned to look at Gordray again, looking determinedly into his eyes. "I've made my choice, and I will stay with it for as long as I live, and after."

Kale flashed her a grin before turning back to the two men. "Morjin, I wanted to thank you as well. You worked selflessly and tirelessly to keep Aya alive. For that, I am indebted to you."

Morjin smiled slightly as he sipped his tea. "You owe me nothing, Kale. My calling now appears to be a healer, of people, and sometimes implements of war. I do what I do for the experience of doing so, of meeting new people and places, and helping to heal what others seem so intent on destroying. I was a humble metalsmith before the Sun Exalted me, now I seek to repair and heal the world itself. Doing so is it's own reward, for me."

Kale nodded, though he was smiling slightly. "Even so, if you happen to need help with anything, don't be afraid to ask."

Morjin nodded in return as he sipped his tea. Aya got the feeling that being thanked embarassed him slightly.

Gordray, on the other hand, was studying Aya. "Since you were an Abyssal, do you know what happened to the Shadow General that nearly took Thorns single-handedly?"

Kale bit his lip to keep from laughing, and mostly succeeded. Aya laughed quietly, shaking her head and looking at the floor before meeting Gordray's gaze once more. "Actually, I do know."

She got up, and walked to the smallish closet in the back of the cabin, looking slightly sadly at her old armor, dented helmet, and her weapons. She decided to bring only the helmet back to the circle, seating herself daintily. "Does this look familiar?"

Both men studied the helmet intently. Morjin's eyebrows swiftly rose, but he said nothing. Gordray took a few more moments of careful study. "This was your old helmet you wore as an Abyssal, yes?"

Aya nodded with a rueful smile, not trusting herself to say anything. She examined it herself now. How quickly life could change in such a short time, she thought.

Gordray looked into Aya's eyes once more, looking slightly suspicious. "The horns on the helmet...I heard stories about how the Shadow General had the same type. Did you serve your Deathlord with him?"

Kale stifled his laughter with difficulty. Morjin was shaking his head slightly. Aya looked at Gordray with a small smile. "The Shadow General wasn't a man."

Gordray raised his bushy eyebrows. "You mean to tell me that the Shadow General was a...a...zombie, of some kind? I've heard stories of zombies turned into Abyssals." He looked at Morjin to find some acknowledgement or agreement, but Morjin just stared resolutely at the helmet, and back at Aya, with a smirk on his face.

Aya chuckled. "No, the Shadow General wasn't a zombie, either. In fact, she was an ordinary human before she became an Abyssal."

Gordray nodded, his eyebrows knitted in confusion. Kale finally sighed with impatience. "No offence intended Gordray, but she'd given you all the clues you need. Come on man, make the connection!"

Gordray looked haughtily at Kale. "You think you know the identity of the Shadow General when the entire Immaculate Guard sent to Thorns was never able to determine the Shadow General's identity? Unlikely."

Kale laughed, while shaking his head. "...Right." He got up to make more tea, still chuckling.

Morjin gazed at Aya thoughtfully. "Perhaps it would help if you put on your old implements of war, Aya."

Aya raised an eyebrow at him curiously. "Can a Solar attune soulsteel?"

Morjin nodded. "You won't get to use it's special property of stealing essence from those blooded by your weapons, or be quite as light as it was when you wore the armor, but you can still attune it, yes."

Aya nodded thoughtfully. "Very well." She got up again, and walked into the closet in the back of the cabin.

She carefully laid out all the parts of her armor, looking at them somewhat sadly. It was as if she was looking at a black hole in her heart, gazing at her old gear. It seemed to represent a time when she was least herself. She sighed, and stood a little straighter. However, in the time she wore that armor, she had learned exactly how dark and cold she could become. It was a good basis for comparison for her, now that she had taken her name and soul back.

Aya looked next at her scimitar, and her tiger-claw khatar. Weapons designed only to slay and take lives, with little honor attached to them. She had merely been a retainer for the Mask of Winters, his living weapon that he pointed at things he thought deserved to die. Being his weapon, she felt no remorse for anything she did, as she was merely her Lord's tool; his half-living weapon.

She shook her head, somewhat sadly. Wearing the armor and weapons now as a demonstration was alright, but she couldn't use them again. They made her feel uncomfortable, reminding her of a time when she was least human, most convinced that the dead were superior to the living.

However, she had lost none of her old skill in donning her armor and weapons swiftly. The helmet was a bit harder to put on, due to the dent in the back, but she managed. She wouldn't be wearing the helmet long anyway.

Aya finished putting on the shinplates and her footguards, and walked swiftly, with long strides back into the living room of the cabin. Once she saw that she had Gordray's rather surprised attention, she swiftly drew her scimitar and claw, and dropped into her old battle stance; both knees bent, looking sideways at him. The scimitar in her right hand was held with the flat of the blade point-out against her left shoulder, the claw on her left arm extended past her right elbow.

Gordray's gasp was audible, as his eyes grew wide. He made a few strangled noises, and looked as if he was about to bolt for the door. Aya smirked behind her helmet before she spoke, the helmet making her voice echo in reverse eerily, as it had in the past. "Now do you see?"

His mouth opened and closed like a fish gasping for water a few times. He fell backwards over his chair in his haste to leave, and began running for the door. Aya sighed and sheathed her weapons, removed her helmet, and darted swiftly to interpose herself between Gordray and the door, all in the same smooth motion. "Now do you see, Gordray?"

Gordray's eyes widened even more, if that were possible. "You... _YOU_ were the scourge that took Thorns?"

She removed her armor and weapons again, revealing the simple clothing she was wearing before. She held her armor rolled up beneath her arm, her other arm holding her old weapons. She spoke in a soft, distant voice, sadly remembering the screams of the people as she and her army massacred them. "I was, yes. It's something I need to atone for, but the time is not yet right."

Gordray's eyebrows dropped into a glare, as he nearly spat the words at her as she walked back to the closet to put her old gear away once more. "And just how do you plan on atoning for all the lives you took? All the families you slew? All the lives you utterly ruined? All the sons and daughters whose families now remember only in eulogy? Just how do you plan on atoning for all of that, hmm?"

She turned to look at him, her face sad, though determined. "By taking back Thorns."

Gordray's jaw dropped. As he attempted to retain his composure, Morjin quietly put a hand on his shoulder, and spoke in a low voice. "She knows what she has done, Gordray. Unless my intuition is failing me, part of the price of her Exaltation into a Child of the Dawn was facing her past, and fully understanding it."

He looked at Aya for confirmation, who nodded silently. He continued. "The only people who should fear her now are those that inhabit Thorns. She has no intention or desire to harm anyone else."

Gordray looked at Aya once more, looking angry. "And you just plan on marching up to Thorns in your armor of death and decay, and slay the dead with their own weapons? Is that it?"

Aya shook her head, clenching her jaw briefly. Now, she was beginning to understand why Kale didn't like this man all that much. "Not alone, and not with that. As I said, the time is not yet right."

Gordray opened his mouth again to protest, but was silence by Morjin putting his hand on his shoulder once more. "Gordray, perhaps it would be better to wait, and see what she's planning."

Gordray took a deep breath, and nodded, somewhat sullenly. Morjin nodded to both Aya and Kale, and spoke once more. "My companion and I had better return to our rooms at the Inn, as it's beginning to get late." He paused with a smile. "Unlike you two, we worry somewhat about bandits."

Kale chuckled, and looked questioningly at Aya. She nodded, and Kale spoke. "We can walk you to Ayodha. It's not far, and we have a trip to make anyway."

Aya's eyebrows rose as she looked at him. How did he know of this temple she saw, that she seemed instinctively drawn to? He just winked roguishly at her.

Morjin nodded to both of them. "Thank you. Do you mind if we leave soon? The pub there is delightful; I haven't tasted ale so well-brewed in many years. I wish to relax with one before I rest tonight."

Kale nodded, and stood, walking over to the peg his jacket hung from. "Very well, then," he said. "Are we ready to leave?"

Morjin and Gordray nodded, though the latter darted a quick glance of dislike at Aya. She noticed, but didn't say anything.

Kale locked the door behind them. The four of them walked in silence for a while. Aya just walked with a small smile on her face, enjoying the feel of the breezes across her skin, the subtle smells of the forest, and the sounds of life being lived therein. She looked around avidly, seeing everything she could with relish. Never again would she take her sight or life for granted.

Aya noticed Kale darting curious looks at her when he thought she wasn't looking. She turned to smile reassuringly at him, which earned her a smile in return. Gordray and Morjin spoke in low tones, but were the only sounds heard from the four of them.

The walk to Ayodha was mostly uneventful, until people in dark clothing jumped out from the trees around them. "Halt, scum! All your valuables on the ground, now!"

Aya glanced at Kale quickly, who was looking at her with trepidation. Yes, the last time this happened, people had died un-necessarily. Not this time. Far too many people had died because of her.

Channeling the new, burning essence within her, she formed it into a rote she knew, lending weight and power to her voice. "Why do you attack innocent people when there are far worse things in the world?"

One of the brigands laughed in gutteral tones. "Maybe 'cos they put up a fight, and travellers don't?" His companions joined him in laughter.

Aya spoke again, strongly, her eyes flashing. The sunlight seemed attracted to her now, illuminating her long, black hair slightly. "So you are no better than the undead that even now fester within our world, and you are proud of this? You call yourselves men? Be gone from my sight. You sicken me!"

The bandit leader looked as if he were about to retort, but thought better of it. "C'mon, lads. They ain't worth it." They quickly disappeared back into the forest.

Her companions were silent for a time. Gordray spoke up first. "I am surprised to see you being unwilling to shed blood."

Aya shrugged, hiding the slowly increasing annoyance she felt at him. Kale spoke before she could. "You are? I'm not, but then again, I took the time to get to know her." He spoke in a rather casual, off-hand way, but she could tell he was feeling just as annoyed with Gordray as she was.

Gordray made a small "hmph" noise, and said nothing more.

The rest of the trip was uneventful, though filled with little glances that Kale shared with her as they walked. She had missed him, though she didn't acknowledge it until recently. Comparing what she remembered of him as a boy, and him now...oh yes, he had grown into a fine man. His sense of humor was more or less the same, which was both amusing and reassuring.

The way both of Kale's parents had died had changed him, though. He was more quiet, and more somber now. Kale was still ready with a good witty joke, but she still saw a shadow pass over his eyes when something reminded him of his parents. His comment of "She's all I have left" made much more sense, now that she thought things through. He was right, in more ways than he knew - he was the last thing she had left as well. She smiled softly to herself. Yes, she loved him for it, and wasn't going to leave him. Not in this lifetime, and not the next lifetime either, if she had anything to say about it.

However, her feelings for Kale would wait for now. She had more pressing matters to attend to, especially as she thought back on the last years of her life. She closed her eyes and shook her head slightly at the many sights of people pleading with her to spare their lives, and the cold certainty she felt at the time as she took their lives.

How many had it been? She tried counting the number of people she'd slain, but stopped with a sinking feeling as she realized that she had lost count after only a few months of her Exaltation as an Abyssal. With a sinking feeling, she knew that their cries for mercy and the sounds they made as they died, the looks of horror, of terror on their faces would haunt her for the rest of her life. Her jaw tightened. Yes, this was the price she had to pay for taking the first step on the road to her own redemption. Seeing them and hearing their screams would be the price she would have to pay.

She looked up at the path, not really looking at her surroundings. The worst crime she had committed was the utter annihilation of all life within Thorns. Her jaw tightened again. She couldn't bring the people she had slain back to life, but she could try to atone for what she had done. Protecting people, instead of slaying them, to start with.

The mindset she had when she was an Abyssal general for the Mask of Winters was a seductive trap. Giving up all responsibility or remorse for what she did, justifying to herself that it wasn't her that was doing these terrible things. Her lord had given her a command that must be obeyed; she was merely acting as the tool that carried those commands to fruition. But now...now she had no illusions to hide her own remorse behind. She must take full responsibility for everything she had ever done, and would ever do.

She took a deep breath, her eyes narrowing as she did so. She didn't know how yet, or when, but the fallen city of Thorns nagged at her. It seemingly called to her thoughts, seeming to become a symbol of her old way of thinking, her old life as a mindless taker of lives. Scouring that city clean of all the undead that lived there would be a good first step.

Aya returned her attention back to her surroundings as she realized they were nearly at the gates of Ayodha. The guards called out in a much more wary tone than before. "Halt! State your business in Ayodha!"

Morjin stepped forward slightly, his hands in his sleeves, clasped together humbly. "My name is Morjin, and I am a travelling healer. My companion, Gordray is a wandering priest, and we've been staying here for the past few days."

One of the guards inclined his head at Kale and Aya, standing together to the side. "And who're they?"

Kale called back, with a grin. "Gabrin, you old blind fraud! It's me, Kale!"

The guard laughed. "Sorry about that Kale, but we've been seeing a lot of strange things lately. Doesn't hurt to be careful. So, you returning to our fair city with your 'friend,' huh?" He winked roguishly at Kale, glancing with a leer at Aya, who looked amused at the attention.

Aya spoke up with a smile before Kale could even inhale for breath. "Yes, he's a very good friend. He even makes me tea, feeds me, and bathes me. I think I'll keep him around for a while."

Kale glanced sharply at her, surprised and amused. She patted his hand with mock-pity. "You forgot to file my nails and brush my hair, but I'll forgive you for now. You're still learning."

The guards laughter echoed around them at this. "About time someone showed that old rascal his place!"

Kale smirked at Gabrin, noticing Morjin's amused glance, and Gordray's impatient one. "Yeah, she should be feeding and carrying and taking care of me, but I lost a bet."

Aya raised both eyebrows as she smirked at him. "Double or nothing?"

Kale grinned back. "You're on, wench!"

The four of them began walking through the gates, and into the town. Aya noticed Kale was looking around just as interestedly as she was, as there hadn't been so much of an Immaculate presence before.

Morjin turned to look at them. "Thank you for escorting us here."

Aya nodded, but Kale spoke up before she could. "It was no trouble at all. We came here to see an old friend of my family before departing anyway."

Morjin nodded and smiled before walking toward the Inn, followed by a serious-faced Gordray.

Kale's hand sought Aya's, who clasped his hand in hers with a squeeze. Words not being necessary, they walked together to the tavern. Kale turned to her with a grin. "You're more fun than you were the last time you were here."

Aya smiled at him, thankful that he was being jovial enough to help get her mind off her previous morbid thoughts. His willingness to hold her hand was strange at first, but she was quickly growing used to the contact. It was comforting, and calming.

Kale was still chuckling at that as they walked into the dimmer light of the tavern, looking for Drannid. Aya spied him first, nudging Kale gently as she began walking toward the table where he sat, smoking his pipe while enjoying his tankard.

"Hi, Drannid. Mind if we sit down?" Kale asked.

Drannid looked up with surprise, his craggy face breaking into a grin. "Aye, lad! Ye and yer lass are maere than welcome at mah table, ye know that."

Aya and Kale seated themselves, Drannid looking at the two of them interestedly. "Och, this might be mah eyesight goin' bad, but somethin's seems different about ye, lass."

Aya smiled brightly at him, and nodded. "I had the chance to take a long, hard look at my past, and make a choice." She smiled at Kale, and squeezed his hand underneath the table.

Drannid leaned back in his chair, chuckling roughly. "Ah'm guessin' Kale here had somethin' tae do with it?"

Kale smirked, but said nothing. Aya gave him a mock-glare, before smiling back at Kale first, then Drannid. "As a matter of fact, he was a big reason. Not to give you a swelled head Kale, but it's true."

Kale leaned back in his chair, grinning, with his hands behind his head. "Yep, I'm just good."

Aya raised an eyebrow, and poked him on the spot on his ribs that she remembered was quite ticklish, from when they were children. She wasn't disappointed now, as he almost jumped out of his chair, holding his side while he looked at Aya with his mouth hanging open. "Okay now, how did you know about that?"

She grinned at him, with half-lidded eyes. "I'm just good."

Drannid laughed loudly, pounding the tough oaken table as he did so. "Hahaha, Och Kale, ye found yeself a live one, and no mistake!"

Kale mock-glared at Aya, who grinned back at him unabashedly. He turned his gaze back to Drannid. "Can I get you a drink, Drannid?"

Drannid pushed his tankard closer. "Aye, ye can pu' a drop there, lad."

Kale signalled the bartender, who poured the frothing brew into Drannid's tankard with an expert flourish, pocketing the jade pieces Kale gave him in thanks. Drannid raised his tankard to Kale in thanks and took a sip, smacking his lips contentedly afterward. "Good brew, this. Ah never tire o' it."

Kale smiled, and leaned forward in his chair. "I'm sorry we can't stay longer, Drannid, but we have a long walk ahead of us."

Drannid nodded at the two of them, as they stood simultaneously. "Heh, brief though it was, Ah'd right glad tae see ye both again. Drop by again, ye ken?"

Both nodded to him, smiling as they left. Kale spoke for both of them, as Aya shot him an amused glance. This habit they seemed to be getting into, of saying what the other was thinking was...taking some getting used to. "We will, don't worry. Take care, and good health to you until we do."

Drannid raised his tankard to them with a craggy grin as a salute, and took a deep gulp as they left.

They walked in silence for a time; not touching, but not far apart, either. Aya was walking where her instincts told her to go, knowing it was leading to the temple she had seen in her dream before she had awoken as a Solar.

As night fell, they didn't slow their pace, but didn't hurry, either. They walked together in silence, just listening to the night-time sounds, hearing the crickets sing their rasping song, and birds sleepingly chirping. She was losing herself in thought once more, the many screams and moans of pain she'd heard coming back to her in a disturbing symphony of morbidity. She shook off the thoughts for now, returning her attention to their journey to this temple her Essence had shown her right before she Exalted.

As the grass and trees began to give way to desert, Kale was looking more and more amused. Aya didn't say anything at first, but as they were fully walking through the desert, she finally couldn't hold in her question any longer. "What?" she asked him.

He shook his head with a smile on his face. "Nothing."

Aya glared at him, but he just grinned back at her unrepentantly. She sighed in mock-disgust, and poked him in the ribs. Hearing him snort and jump as she did was worth the price of not knowing what was on his mind. Well, almost. He looked at her, laughing as he raised his hands. "Pax, madam! I'll tell you after we visit your temple, I promise."

She shot him a mock-glare, though couldn't hide her smile. "You'd better, if you know what's good for you."

Kale wrapped his arms around her, holding her in place as he held her close to him. She sighed, and rested her head on his shoulder. "You're good for me," he said quietly.

Aya relaxed in his embrace, leaning her head on his shoulder again. "I hope so," she said softly.

Kale's voice sounded questioning, with a hint of worry. "What's on your mind?"

She raised her head to look at him in the eyes, her face grave. "Do you know how many lives I've taken in the past eight years, Kale?"

His eyebrows raised in question as he answered. "No, but I have a good guess. You're feeling haunted by them, aren't you?"

Aya's eyebrows raised in response, surprised by his answer. "How did you know that?"

He hugged her a little more tightly as he answered. "The few times my father talked about his life in the Immaculate military, he said the nightmares he had about battle and killing took quite a while to really stop. He said he felt so guilty for what he'd done, that living a live of peace and solitude with his wife was what slowed the nightmares, eventually making them go away completely."

Aya left her head on his shoulder, feeling grateful for his embrace and kindness. She took a slow, deep breath before she answered. "After I Exalted again, the first few thoughts I had after I found that my wounds had been healed were about the screams of the people that had died by my hand. I know they're going to haunt me for a very long time."

Kale was silent, just holding her, comforting her by his touch and presence. Aya's eyes closed as she relaxed a bit more, the only sounds around them being the songs of the crickets. She opened her eyes as she continued. "I need to atone for what I've done, Kale. I've killed so many people I can't even count them all. As detestable as Gordray was, he was right - I've ruined many, many lives, deprived parents of sons and daughters, slain husbands and wives and children..."

She trailed off, her eyes filling with tears as her voice began to break. "By all that's holy and pure in this world, Kale, I've killed children!"

He didn't say anything, but began to slowly and gently run his fingers through her hair as she began crying with great, shuddering sobs. It seemed as if all the pain she'd caused others was adding to all the memories of her being tortured, of being hurt, of the vicious cycle this created.

She realized that she was probably staining his shirt with her tears, which made her feel guilty as she began pulling away. with a sniffle. "I'm sorry, I don't want to stain your shirt."

He chuckled quietly, as he pulled her back into his arms once more, gently pushing her head back onto his shoulder. His voice was soft, his words succinct. "Shirts can be washed. Feelings aren't quite so simple."

Aya felt the tears come once more. She tried to fight them, but just let them come as she keened on his shoulder. She didn't know how long she cried, but it felt like years.

Her tears began to dry, as she hiccupped slightly. She clung to Kale as if he were the only thing keeping her afloat in a drowning ocean of tears. "I don't know if I can ever make up for what I've done. I don't even know why my Essence Exalted me again, knowing what terrible things I've done."

Aya felt her gently kiss her on the top of her head before replying. "I think it was because he knew you were capable of remorse, and knew that you'd try to make up for it. Unless you've changed more than I know, you won't feel as if you can rest until you do."

She hugged him tightly at this. "You're a wonderful man, Kale. I don't know what I did to deserve you."

Aya felt him chuckle softly as he held her. "It was seeing you naked."

She couldn't help it, but she laughed. It felt like an equal release after all the tears she had just shed, to laugh about something so utterly silly. She looked up at him, the image of him looking blurry and indistinct through the tears still in her eyes. She leaned up and kissed him softly on the cheek once more before smiling up at him. He gently dabbed her tears away with his shirt, smiling gently at her as he did. "Come on, we can talk more once we get back from your temple."

She pulled away from him, suddenly suspicious. "Okay, you were laughing to yourself about where we were going at first, and now you said where we were going even though I hadn't told you. How did you know?"

He smiled roguishly at her. "For one thing, my Essence's temple is in the same area, and she encouraged me to go to her temple almost right after I Exalted. I figured from the direction you were going that you had felt drawn to it as well."

Aya's smile grew slowly, as she shook her head. "Come on then, Mr. Smartass."

They began walking again in silence, though they held hands this time. They began to see large rocks in the sands, and Aya began to slow down, looking for the landmarks she had seen in the brief vision.

She found the large rock at last, and smiled in satisfaction. She pressed her hand into the rough hand-shaped indentation in the rock, and immediately the ground began to shake heavily.

Both of them beheld a large building rising from the sands with a low, loud rumble with amazement, Aya with fascination as well.

There was a set of stairs leading up to a door, guarded by two statues on either side of it. They began cautiously walking up the stairs, when blue light flared behind the masks of the statues where eyes should have been. They extended their weapons, and crossed them in front of the door. With unearthly voices, they spoke in unison, in perfect sync. The one on the right had a deep, baritone male voice, the one on the left had a higher, hissing tenor, though still unmistakably male voice. "Only two may enter this place. Speak their names, and gain admittance. Fail, and die."

Aya stepped forward boldly, and called out to the statues in an authoritative tone. "The man who built this temple was named Melek, nicknamed the Mailed Fist of the Sun by those who stood against the Unconquered Sun. His wife was named Melia, nicknamed the Jade Shadow by her enemies."

The statues retracted their weapons, and the door opened with a grinding noise behind them. Again, they spoke in perfect sync. "You may enter in peace."

Aya and Kale walked cautiously through the doorway, seeing the statues stay perfectly still as they did so. Kale remarked as they walked through the doorway, "I didn't know she was nicknamed that."

Aya smirked at him. "You really should talk more with her, then." 

Kale nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah, I'd like to drop by her temple once you're done here. Good sense of direction, by the way."

She smiled, and made an elegant bow to him. "Why thank you, good sir."

Still smiling slightly at each other, they walked through the long hallway, sloping down for quite a ways, before coming to another doorway. The door slammed downwards as they neared it. They both heard the voice that echoed around them.

" _Only my successor and my wife's successor are allowed to enter this place. If you are my successor, show your heritage!_ "

Aya nodded, and took a deep breath. To Kale's surprise, she swiftly turned sideways, slamming her right foot onto the ground with a loud "Kai!" As her foot hit the ground, her Caste Mark flared brightly on her forehead, her anima illuminating white, gold, and red around her. Within the bright light, she appeared to be a shadow, with her long, jet black tresses.

The voice was heard again, over the low roar of Aya's anima. " _You are my successor. Enter._ " The door rose upwards into the ceiling with a grinding noise. Aya's Caste Mark and her anima faded away once again, as if they had never been.

Kale looked at her, raising an eyebrow. "Your anima is a bit brighter than it used to be."

She smiled at him. "It's something to live up to."

Kale nodded, smiling at her comfortingly. They walked together through the doorway, and both gasped softly at the sight. It was a huge circular room, brightly illuminated with a soft golden light. In evenly-spaced intervals, they saw doors blocked off by different statues, five in all.

As they reached the center of the room, they heard the same voice again. Aya wondered how Melek was able to have his voice stored like this, to react to the successor he somehow knew would come.

" _My successor, you are welcome to all the knowledge and treasure you find within this place. For me to have picked you, you are assuredly a man strong of mind, body and spirit. As such, you must overcome challenges to earn my knowledge and gifts to help you on your path through life. As you walk near the statues, my voice will explain to you what each challenge entails._ "

Kale chuckled, as Aya raised an eyebrow about the voice calling her a man. "Don't worry about it. Melia thought her successor would be a woman."

Aya laughed, finishing with a sigh of surprise. She heard the same noise of surprise from Kale as well, as two figures slowly faded ethereally into existence in front of them. One figure was large and tall, the other short, and slender.

Both Aya and Kale gasped in shock as their features became recognizable. The one on the left, in front of Aya, was a tall, largely-built man who seemed to nearly take up half the room. He was at least six and a half feet tall, she realized. As his features seemed to fade in, she gasped again as she realized she was looking at Melek, clad in golden armor, and holding the hand of the diminutive woman to his left. His curly black hair was cut short in a soldier's buzzcut, with piercing blue eyes, which offset his dark, nearly ebony skin well.

Aya heard Kale's similar gasp of shock as she beheld the woman. She appeared tiny next to the giant of a man next to her. She had long, black hair and deeply tanned skin, with striking jade-green eyes. She wore a halter top and a short skirt, which made her look like a desert dancer from the South. Both of them smiled in unison.

Melek spoke first, his deep baritone voice echoing throughout the chamber, even though he wasn't speaking especially loudly. He was indeed a man of enormous presence, which befit the general he once was. Aya realized this was how he looked in life, matched by the tiny woman at his side. "We decided to speak to you together here, before we took our rest. Certain things needed to be said before we did."

Melia spoke, her voice like soprano velvet, her green eyes twinkling to match the smile on her face. "We're both very proud of you. Kale, you learned incredibly quickly, and adapted to being an Exalt faster even than I did, despite your trepidation. Seeing you now reminds me of why I picked you in the first place, though I didn't know Aya contained my husband's Essence until later on. Happy coincidence, I suppose."

Melek smiled down at his wife. "Or fate, either way. Aya, you persevered through far more than anyone had a right to, and came out of it shining like a star. You have scars, but you learned from your experiences. I'm proud to know that you're my successor. Though I didn't intend for you to get romantically involved with the person who contained my wife's Essence..."

Melia interrupted him with a grin, looking up at him mischievously. "I was hoping they would, after what I saw of the two of them, but I didn't press them."

Melek laughed, his voice booming throughout the chamber. "Always the matchmaker, aren't you? In any case," he said, turning his attention back to Kale and Aya, "My wife and I agreed that we should say our goodbyes to you personally. It was the least we could do for what you two have done."

Kale got over his shock first. "You mean to tell me you were actually _trying_ to set Aya and I up, Melia?"

Melia's bell-like laughter echoed softly around the chamber. "Oh, not at first; I promise. Only after you saved her at the canyon did I begin hoping the threads of fate would weave as they did for Melek and I."

Aya smiled at Melek. Seeing him now, as he once was, and not a nameless voice was gratifying. She was able to finally see the man she had deeply despised at first, and lately was deeply thankful to. "Were you serious when you said you would have picked me anyway, Melek? I noticed that your voice in the chamber earlier assumed your successor would be a man."

Melek chuckled heartily. "Forgive me, I assumed. For quite a few lifetimes, this Essence was carried by men, as men seemed to be most often the kinds who fought wars, and led campaigns."

Melia smiled mischievously again. "Don't worry about it too much. I think Kale would look quite fetching as a woman."

Kale glared at her, which made her break into a fresh fit of bell-like laughter. "I jest, I do. In all seriousness, I don't regret picking you in the least, Kale. You're the most noble and capable Night Caste to hold this Essence for a very long time. In time, you'll be even better than I was."

Melia's face looked serious, but Melek spoke before she could. "What we both hope, Kale and Aya, is that you don't have to face what we did. If worst comes to worst and you do, then I hope that you have more determination and willpower than I did, Aya."

Looking up at Melek, Melia smiled tolerantly. "You big lout, you're too hard on yourself. I knew that you would see the light eventually, and you have. There's nothing to forgive, so stop being so hard on yourself."

Melek smiled somewhat grimly down at his wife. "Perhaps. But it will take me longer to forgive myself."

Aya shook her head, smiling. "You're forgetting, Melek, that even though you did, good things happened because of it. I might have met Kale again, but I doubt we'd feel as strongly for one another if you hadn't fallen, and I hadn't have become an Abyssal first."

She looked downcast. "I have much to atone for, Melek. I don't know if I'll ever be able to make up for all the lives I've taken."

Melek nodded at her, smiling. "I came back because I knew you could atone for it. Remember Aya, I've been inside your head for the past five years. You have a core of steel within you, but one with a conscience. You've buried your conscience for many years now, but it's coming back at last, with a vengeance. You're listening to it, and understanding what it's trying to tell you. It was for this reason that I knew that I couldn't give my Essence to anyone else. I believe in you, Aya. Now, believe in yourself, your own capabilities, and your capacity to do good things. You've had many years to get out all your frustration, anger, and irritation. Now you know the consequences of doing so without restraint, and the terrible things that can be caused because of them."

Aya's eyes were beginning to tear up again, but she nodded with a smile. He was correct this time, and she was thankful that he wasn't being cryptic in his replies this time. Perhaps it was because he was ready to take his final rest now.

Squeezing Melek's hand tightly, Melia spoke up. "Though we'll miss you both, it's time for us to take our rest at last. I know that his Essence is in a good person now, and I know I speak for my husband when I say that he feels the same way."

Melek nodded, smiling warmly at Aya. "Don't doubt yourself, Aya. You have within you the makings of one of the best generals I've ever seen, better even than I was. What you've done thus far is a far cry from what you are capable of. What you do, and how you do it is up to you, but I know you'll do well."

Kale's arm snaked around Aya's waist. She smiled up at him briefly, putting her arm around his waist in return before both of them returned their attention to their Essences made manifest in front of them, beginning to fade slowly.

Smiling at Melia, Kale spoke. "Thank you, Melia. I feel honored now that I was chosen, though I wasn't at first. I wish for you a good rest, and good fortune in your next lifetime."

Melia smiled back at him, bowing. "As do I, Kale. I wish for you good journeys, and a long lifetime filled with happiness."

Aya kissed Kale on the cheek before speaking. "Melek, I despised you at first, but now I am honored to carry on your Essence. May you find the peace you deny yourself, and find it again in your next lifetime."

Melek smiled back, as he began fading from view alongside Melia. "I knew you were destined for great things, Aya. Despite my lack of choice when Exalting you the first time, I am deeply proud of you now, and I take my rest knowing my Essence will be left in very capable hands. I wish you a long life, filled with realizations and happy discoveries at the side of the one you love."

Their figures had entirely faded away now. Their voices were heard one last time.

"Goodbye, Aya. Take care of your other half." Melek's deep voice sounded...content.

"Goodbye, Kale. Take good care of her, or I'll come back and haunt you!"

The last sound they heard was Melia's fading laughter, like the tinkling of silver-tongued bells.


	42. Myriad Reflections of Night

Kale awoke to Aya mumbling in her sleep, and beginning to thrash around. He quickly realized she was having another nightmare, and wrapped his arms around her to comfort her. He gently kissed her face until her movements slowed, and she fell silent once more, apart from a small sigh as she snuggled a little closer to him as she slept.

She had these nightmares of many things, but her last visit to the Underworld caused her nightmares the most. He really didn't blame her; once he'd found out what had happened to her, he'd had a nightmare himself. Thankfully, he was able to comfort her, allowing her to sleep peacefully.

Kale stretched, and lay on his back as he stared up at the ceiling, thinking as he awoke. Aya had followed his movement in her sleep, and now had her head on his shoulder, her arm over his body. He reached around and slowly ran his fingers through her hair as he lost himself in thought.

His eyes narrowed as he remembered that little pale Abyssal weasel who'd managed to track them undetected for who knows how many days. Thankfully, he'd managed to spot the little sneak, and they'd beaten him unconscious. With no small sense of satisfaction, he thought with a smile. Hogtying him to a tree limb was his idea; the Riverspeak writing was hers. One of the positive things about being an Abyssal for her, apparently, was that she'd learned to read and speak all the prominent languages of the Realm. Writing the sign was an amusing joke at worst, something to throw her former Lord completely off their scent at best.

Even so, he didn't want to take chances. He told her that if the little pale idiot had been watching them, he likely knew where his cabin was as well. This was unacceptable, as Kale had been having a very pleasant year with Aya before this happened. She had quickly agreed to moving, and got started that very night. For now, they were sleeping at an Inn in the town of Mishaka, Northwest of Thorns and his parent's cabin. It was a little closer to his and Aya's respective Manses, which was a small benefit for them.

The innkeeper had warned them of barbarian horde attacks, receiving polite attention from he and Aya. Apparently, the barbarians raided from somewhere in the wilderness nearby, and razed the town of Mishaka when they felt bored, which was about every two years. It had been a little more than two years since the last attack, so the overall atmosphere of the town was a little tense.

He had seen a peculiar look in Aya's eyes as they heard about this, but thought nothing of it until later, when he'd returned to their room with dinner to find her staring out the window toward the full moon. She'd seemed a little distracted as they ate that night, remarking about signs of fate, and such. She was being cryptic, but she always was when there was something on her mind lately.

Ever since they'd returned from their temples in the sand that first time, there had been a purposeful fire burning in her eyes. After they'd returned that day, he'd let her have the bed, and he slept on the armchair. He had been awakened while it was still dark, with her fully dressed and looking entirely too chipper and awake for what time it was. "Come on, wake up, Kale! Let's race the sun!"

He tried to give her a look with as much incredulity as he could muster for how early it was, and questioned her sanity sleepily. "No, too early." He'd tried to go back to sleep, but she had begun lightly tickling his sides. Damn her. He finally gave in, and they began running in the early misty morning, with all the dew still hanging from the grass and trees. Kale had to admit, it was a rather invigorating way to wake up.

She could run. In fact, she could really run, and he was hard-pressed to keep up with her. At first, he'd enjoyed hanging slightly behind to watch her as she ran, but his competitive nature quickly asserted itself. He'd run faster, baring his teeth as he sucked in the frosty pre-sunlit air as he'd run like he hadn't run since escaping the Underworld.

They finally stopped when they saw the sun beginning to peep over the horizon. They stood staring at the morning sun as they breathed lightly from their run, their breath both coming out in mists. Seeing her smile as she watched the sun begin to rise reminded him very much of the sunrise they were watching. She looked the most happy and the most alive for a very long time.

However, she had turned to him after a time with a serious look. "Kale, let's go back to our temples this morning. I want to explore it a bit more, and see what I can learn."

Of course, he had to ask why. "Why the urgency, Aya?"

She looked grave and determined as she answered. "I need to prepare for how I'm going to make up for what I've done. Learning all that I'm capable of now is a good start for that, and will be time well spent until the time is right."

He narrowed his eyebrows at her in slight confusion. "This is about Thorns, isn't it?"

She nodded, still looking determined and serious. "I'd rather go with you, but I'll go alone if you don't wish to go."

Kale couldn't help but smile slightly. Oh yes, he could get used to her thinking of him as well as herself. He shrugged. "Alright."

They'd jogged to their twin Manses. Aya found out to her amusement that Melia's Manse and Melek's Manse had been built back to back. She'd looked at Melia's temple from the outside, and walked with him within.

Aya's surprise at seeing the Guardian awaken and look at them was nearly priceless. She immediately dropped into a combat crouch as her right hand moved instinctively to her side to draw a weapon. Her eyes grew wide as she realized she had none. She had nearly jumped out of her skin as the Guardian spoke, its voice booming in the semi-darkness. "GREETINGS, KALE. I RECOGNIZE THE ESSENCE WITHIN YOUR COMPANION. IS THIS MELEK'S SUCCESSOR?"

Aya had looked wide-eyed, her body still tensed, as she saw Kale's nonchalance. "Yep. Meet Aya, of the Dawn Caste."

The huge Guardian turned its head to look down at her. "I AM PLEASED TO MAKE YOUR ACQUAINTANCE, AYA OF THE DAWN. I SHALL RECOGNIZE YOU IN THE FUTURE."

Aya then nodded, still looking a little tense. She glared at Kale, who was trying his absolute best not to laugh, and almost succeeding. Then, she'd relaxed with a smile, and chuckled a little herself. "I'm pleased to meet you as well. I admit, I didn't expect..." Her voice trailed off, not quite finding the words she was looking for.

The Guardian nodded with a slight grating noise. "I FRIGHTEN MANY WHO BEHOLD ME. IT IS WHAT I WAS MADE FOR, BUT I ADMIT I ENJOY IT SOMEWHAT."

Kale laughed at this. "Yeah, I bet you do!"

Aya smirked, and punched Kale lightly in the arm as they walked into the chamber beyond. Aya's eyes weren't drawn to the large basket of rubies, or the other knick-knacks in the smaller room, but to the map. She studied it intently, nodding to herself as she finished. "This map is incredibly accurate, even for its age."

They began walking out of the room together. Aya was slightly surprised to see Kale walking toward the door. She spoke up, which caused him to turn around to look at her questioningly. "Is that all?"

Kale looked a little confused. "Is what all?"

Aya explained patiently. "I noticed that the interior of this place looks a lot smaller than the outside would lead one to believe. Aren't there any more rooms?"

Kale's eyes widened in surprise. "Huh. You know, I bet you're right." He began looking at the walls curiously. Aya walked up to him, and squeezed his arm. "I'm going to go next door. Meet you outside in four hours?"

Kale looked at her and smiled. "Certainly." He was rewarded with a quick kiss on the cheek, before watching her walk with long-legged, ground-eating strides out of the temple. She gave one last incredulous glance at the Guardian, who surprised her by nodding to her, and bidding her farewell as she left. She regained her senses enough to return the gesture, but looked over her shoulder as she left to look at it one last time.

Aya walked around to the entrance to her own temple, smiling as she approached the two guardians. She nodded to the two guardians by the entrance as they shouldered their weapons simultaneously. They were smaller and less imposing than Kale's guardian, but served the same purpose. It spoke volumes to her about Melia's sense of humor to have no guards outside, but to have a very large and imposing one inside, where it was very dimly-lit. She chuckled about this as she walked into the center chamber, seeing the five doors.

She looked more closely, seeing a statue in front of each door. She approached the one furthest to the left. As she beheld the statue of a man in full armor, with a raised stone sword, Melek's voice echoed around the chamber. She looked around for his voice before realizing that he had managed to store his speech long ago. " _This, my successor, is the Door of Combat. To open this door, you must show your competence in melee combat by defeating a champion I've imprisoned here for this purpose._ "

Aya was highly tempted to start the challenge now, her adrenaline beginning to pump in response. However, she restrained herself for now, her curiosity winning her over. She walked to the next door and statue, seeing that it was a stone statue of two men hunched over a square board. She was rewarded with hearing his voice once more as she approached. " _Before you is the Door of Warfare. To open this door and learn the secrets I contain within, you must defeat me in a strategic challenge nearly as old as civilization itself: a game of chess._ "

She was tempted again, but walked instead to the next door to hear what its challenge held. The statue in front of this door appeared to be two men arguing, while a third was interposing himself between the two. " _My successor, I must have picked you not only due to your competence in battle, but because of your temperance. A general must not only be the best of his army at combat, but also at resolving conflict without bloodshed. You must settle a dispute to gain entrance to this Door of Negotiation._ "

Aya nodded to herself. Yes, that made sense. She walked to the fourth statue, seeing a scene frozen in stone, expertly carved, just like the others. This one was of a man in a strange sideways stance, his chest bare, with his left arm extended. Melek's voice boomed throughout the chamber as she approached. " _Combat is only a small part of what you are, though it is your talent. To become truly adept at fighting and combat, one must achieve harmony within. If you have the patience and talent for stilling your mind, approach the Door of Stillness._ "

Aya's eyebrows raised slightly at this. After she heard his words, they made sense to her, striking a chord that made her feel that this was something else she must do. However, she had yet to see what the fifth challenge was. She walked to the fifth statue, seeing a statue of a man holding a bow, with an arrow fully drawn. " _My successor, being one of the best melee combatants to ever live is not enough. To defend one's self against the arrows or shots of distant marksmen, one must learn the ways of distance. Challenge the Door of Distance if you are ready._ "

She walked to the middle of the chamber, deep in thought. Melek was certainly a canny man, and it showed in the challenges they presented. Aya suspected that there was far more behind each door than his voice let on, and considered which one she would challenge first carefully.

For his part, Kale was searching through the temple with concentration, looking for hairline cracks in the wall, feeling for breezes, and looking for anything else that might signify a chamber beyond. He smiled as he felt a loose tile in the floor, the cracks around it barely visible through the accumulated dust of centuries. He blew gently, revealing the thin cracks around the large tile, coughing periodically as the dust snuck into his nose. Kale finally finished, prying the tile up with his bootknife. He hefted the tile up and away, seeing nothing but inky blackness below the tile that not even refocussing his eyes could penetrate.

With a sigh of annoyance, he pulled a long hemp rope from around his waist, and walked toward the Guardian. "Hey, Guardian, I need to ask you a favor."

Kale was quickly rewarded with seeing the Guardian's eyes open, and a grating noise as it turned its huge head to look down at him. "WHAT IS THE FAVOR, KALE OF THE NIGHT CASTE?"

Kale withdrew his rope. "I need to tie this rope to your leg to explore what's beyond that tile."

The Guardian looked at him in silence for a few moments before speaking. "MELIA NEVER REQUIRED A ROPE. SHE MERELY JUMPED DOWN, THE FEW TIMES SHE WENT DOWN THERE."

Kale's eyes narrowed. "Yeah, that's great, but I'm not her. She also knew what was down there, and how far down the ground was, and I don't. I'd rather be cautious."

The Guardian nodded with a creaking noise. "THE TILE DIRECTLY NEXT TO THAT ONE CAN BE LIFTED AS WELL. I BELIEVE IT HAS A KNOB YOU MAY ATTACH A ROPE TO."

"Ah. Thanks." Kale walked to the tile, and checked the four immediately surrounding it. He was rewarded with one of them moving slightly. He pulled up the tile, seeing a depression in the ground with a metal knob in the center. Smiling, he moved the tile out of the way, tied the rope to the knob, and cautiously climbed down.

He had nearly reached the limit of his fifty foot rope when his feet touched the ground in the darkness. Feeling quite glad he hadn't felt brave enough to jump, he tried to peer through the darkness around him, and failed miserably. Taking a deep breath to calm the irritation he felt, he drew on his essence to enhance his sight, using a rote specifically designed for the purpose. There, he could now see around him dimly. It was a direct path from where he stood into the distance. He cautiously took a step, and another. He threw himself backward as the tile he was about to stand on rose swiftly to slam into the ceiling above, before slowly retracting back into the ground.

"Damn you, Melia," he thought as he cautiously made his way through the passageway, taking great care not to put his full weight on any tile unless he knew it was safe. Kale's swift reflexes saved him more than once. He was grateful that Melia had taught him how to dodge as well as she had. That crafty wench knew he'd need all the skills she taught him to even have a chance of exploring her temple and surviving, he guessed.

He eventually made his way to the end of the passageway, seeing a lit room on the other side, blocked by a pit that he couldn't see the bottom of. The pit was at least twenty feet across, and he didn't have another rope. He looked above to check the ceiling, and saw that the ceiling rose up once more, giving someone with a lot of guts room to jump if they felt frisky.

Kale's eyes narrowed as he glared at the pit. He walked cautiously back to the last trick tile, which gave him enough room to run and leap, but he'd have to activate the rote to strengthen his jump right before he did. Taking a couple deep breaths to calm himself, he then dashed swiftly toward the edge of the pit. Drawing on his essence right before he jumped, he felt the rote activate as his feet left the ground in a mighty leap. To his surprise, he managed to make it all the way across, landing on all fours on the floor beyond. His heart beating madly, he stood cautiously as he walked carefully into the room beyond.

As he entered the room, he heard her high-pitched voice echo softly around him. His eyes narrowed as her voice sounded amused. " _Well, daughter of the Night, you've managed to find one of the hidden parts of this place. Believe you me, there are many. This was the easiest one to find, so I'm guessing you found this one first._ "

Kale sighed. Her referring to him as a she was really getting on his nerves, especially after having to deal with trick floors and a huge pit trap. He took a few deep breaths to calm himself as she continued. " _It is here that I will teach you many things useful to those blessed by the Sun to be of the Night. You are more than a living contradiction of being Night by the Sun, you will become to be one of the best spies, stealthy assassins of the Sun's enemies, and learn to be ever-watchful._ "

This was intriguing, but he knew that the four hours was nearly up, and he didn't want to be late. Looking around once more as the place fell silent once more, he saw a ladder. Shaking his head, he began to ascend it, being extremely wary for any tricks Melia's devious mind was capable of. However, he encountered none. He emerged into a tiny room, with a closed door. He cautiously opened the door, and found himself on the far right side of the room the Guardian stood within.

Kale closed the door, and replaced both the tiles, reclaiming his rope as he did so. With a smile, he blew dust back into the cracks of the tile, hiding their purpose. If he found it, so might someone else, and he didn't want to take the chance.

He walked out of the Manse, seeing that it was now early afternoon, as he blinked, trying to adjust his eyes to the brightness outside, made worse by the sand. He walked around to the entrance to Melek's temple just as Aya was emerging, looking lost in thought. She almost walked into him before looking up, her bright blue eyes widening as she saw him, before her face broke into a soft smile. "Did you find anything in Melia's temple?"

Kale's face darkened as he thought of the pit trap, and the tiles that slammed into the ceiling with little provocation. "Yeah, you could say that." He told her of his experiences down in the chamber, and he could tell she was trying not to laugh. As he told her of how Melia's voice had called him a "daughter of the Night," she gave into a peal of laughter.

Kale had to smile as he saw her laughing so hard, before she managed to regain her composure enough to speak again. "That's precious, Kale. She called you a lady of the evening!"

He tried to glare at her, but he had to admit, he thought it was funny. He chuckled somewhat himself as she finished laughing. They walked back to his cabin, telling each other of what they saw, and giving each other advice.

When they returned together, they had a pleasant dinner, and a relaxing time talking of little things over tea. Soon enough, they decided to go to sleep. Again, he let her have the bed while he took the armchair.

Kale was awakened during the night by her talking in her sleep. She sounded frightened. "No...No, I'm sorry, please don't die...No, not that again! No!"

He sleepily got up, and sat next to her shivering form, curled up into a ball beneath the blanket with only her head peeping out. He gently touched her head, and began running his fingers slowly and gently through her hair, as that had calmed her before. She surprised him by turning toward him in her sleep, and latching onto him as if she were drowning. With a sigh, he laid down on the bed and put his arms around her, and she responded by moving with him to hold onto him in her sleep. She was quiet again, her breathing returning to a regular rhythm once more. With a small shrug, he decided to go to sleep himself, holding her close.

They awoke about the same time, in very much the same position. Kale's eyes were still closed, but he heard her yawning quietly as she awoke, and then stop. He opened one eye to see her looking at him with trepidation. He smiled at her reassuringly. "Morning, you."

She gave him a half smile, but still looked a little unsettled. "Good morning, Kale. Did we..." She trailed off.

He smirked. "No, you were having a nightmare, which woke me up. I got up and sat down next to you to calm you down so you could sleep, and you latched onto me like you were drowning. I tried to move your arms, but you just held on tighter."

Aya blinked a few times, looking at how near he was to the side of the bed, and seeing that he still had on his shirt and pants before nodding. "Okay."

She yawned and stretched again, and reached around to wrap her arms around him. "Thank you for being such a gentleman." Her soft, sleepy chuckle made his ear tickle, before she kissed him on the cheek.

Suddenly, she raised her head to look at him brightly. "It's almost time for sunrise. Come on, let's get up!"

Kale couldn't help but chuckle.


	43. Night's Memory Broken by Morning

Aya was making small strange noises in her sleep, which brought Kale's mind back to the present. He held her closer, and gently ran his fingers through her long, opal-black hair. She moved her legs slightly in her dreams, and settled against him again. Kale smiled as he saw her drifting into peaceful dreams again, kissing her on her forehead softly. She made a small noise, and snuggled against him a little more.

Kale watched her as she slept, making sure she was sleeping evenly once more before he let his mind drift once more. That first week was very strange, but he imagined that it was part of getting used to one another. He wouldn't have had things any other way, he thought with a happy smile. Strange though it was, he was thankful.

For the rest of that week, they'd settled into a pretty regular routine. For the first few days, she had awoken him before dawn, and they'd raced the sun as they had done so often when they were children. It was such an inane thing, but the exhilaration he felt as they did hadn't lessened any from when he was a child. They would then eat a quick breakfast, with Aya relearning what kinds of thing one could have for the early morning meal before journeying again to their temples in the sands to the North. They'd spend a few hours there, return back to his cabin, have a good dinner with joke-telling, stories, and talking about their experiences over the years they hadn't seen one another.

A few hours later, Aya would have a nightmare, which would wake Kale up. He'd get out of his armchair, get into bed with Aya, and hold her until she fell into restful sleep once more. Listening to her even breathing would lull him into sleep as well, and they would wake up with their arms around each other. She stopped having reservations about it after the next morning, when she awoke at the same time he did, smiling sleepily at him like the morning sun itself, before giving him a soft kiss.

Kale got several shocks that day. He thought darkly that his rather pleasant morning waking up next to her should have meant the day would end up very, very strange, and only get worse.

When they got to their temples, and Kale had some time to explore a bit more, he got a rather nice surprise. He found out that the sword he carried and never really thought much about not only had a name, but a history as well. It seemed that the deeper he managed to explore the depths of the temple, the more he learned; not only about his own abilities, but about Melia's own history and experiences, with her own opinions on things.

He had found another passageway, this one hidden in the walls, near the ceiling. He had crawled through a short distance, silently annoyed that it had been built for someone Melia's size to crawl through with ease. Kale, however, had to crawl on his stomach through it, grumbling silently.

After about fifteen minutes of crawling through the rather narrow passageway, he found a much larger room. Knowing Melia's penchant for trapping things in strange ways, he proceeded with utmost caution, not wanting to be flattened or dropped into a pit, or worse. However, no traps awaited him, just a large, dimly-lit circular room, with about ten softly glowing circles on the floor.

He picked up a rock, and tossed it into the circle nearest the passageway he had entered from, and heard Melia's voice echoing quietly around him.

" _Hello again, my successor. It is strange for me to store my voice here, knowing that I'm going to be meeting my end sometime soon. The Lunars are getting angry at those of us who are disregarding our own responsibility, and have spoken up about it more than once during our meetings. Some of our kind are summoning Yozi to carry out work for us. I agree with the Lunars in that this is only inviting trouble, but the ones doing it do not listen. Instead, they accuse the Lunars loudly of hindering progress and trying to sabotage what they have done._ "

" _The Lunar spokeswoman politely protested, saying that they didn't have anything against what good the Solars have brought into the world, but instead have issue with us trafficking with such dangerous beings. The Twilight Caste who had spoken up before spoke up again, loudly and angrily accusing the Lunar of saying in not so many words that they weren't strong enough to contain such weak beings._ "

Kale heard Melia sigh.

" _Things only got worse from there. The Lunars finally said 'Very well, none of you have listened to our warnings, and neither want or wish for our help any longer.' and left. And when I say they left, I mean every single last one of them left the City of Glass, departing into parts unknown. The Twilight Councilman ordered me to follow them unseen, to see what 'evils' they were planning. I told him to his fat face that I found it funny that he was calling what the Lunars were doing evil, when he was the one summoning demons and trying to justify it. He got pretty angry at that, and accused me of being a Lunar sympathizer. I replied that considering the Lunars had been at our side helping us as we had built the Solar Deliberative and all the wonders our minds and hands have created, of course I was a Lunar sympathizer. Then I left without proper ceremony, which made him shout angrily at me, but I didn't listen to him._ "

He heard Melia sigh once more, a bit more sadly this time.

" _I don't know what sixth sense told me that time was of the essence, but I quietly gathered a few friends and asked for their help to construct this place, and convinced my beloved Melek to do the same. He questioned my urgency and asked me what the hurry was, but I couldn't give him any other reason except my instincts tell me that we must hurry. Thankfully, he just nodded at this and got some of his army to help he and I both. Oh, my dear Melek, I hope I'm wrong about what my dreams tell me._ "

The voice ended. Kale stared at the glowing circle, thinking. So, Melia had been there as the Lunars departed for the wilderness, in that long-forgotten day. He was glad that she had her temple constructed when she did, certainly. Without it, he would be far more lost and confused. However, he saw that a door had silently appeared behind the circle in the rock face. Walking toward it, he was able to push it easily open, revealing another glowing circle. He tossed another rock into it.

" _The weapon you found first is not a simple sword. It isn't even merely an exceptional weapon. In fact, it was given to me by the Lunar Chieftain for assisting him, and bringing him news of the City of Glass after he left. Its name is the Silver Horn, crafted by master Lunar craftsmen to have the mercurial shape-altering abilities the Lunars are known for from the moonsilver, plus orichalcum for we Solars to attune to strike at the dark things in this world. Once you've attuned it, my student, it will reform itself to whatever melee form you wish, and will remember this shape._ "

Kale grinned. Oh, this was a wonderful surprise.

" _However, you must placate it from time to time. It may not have a voice or tongue with which to speak, but it is partially alive from the magics that created it. Spend a few days a year tending to it, cleaning it, talking to it, and using it when you can. If not properly tended to, it can become temperamental, and reform itself into something utterly useless if it doesn't like you._ "

Kale chuckled at this. He thought talking to a weapon was a little silly, but if it meant that the weapon would help him in more ways than he had imagined, he could deal with that.

" _My student, you may return to this room when you wish to be trained in the bestial martial art taught to me by the Lunar Chieftain himself, Long Stripe Fangs-First. He taught me the art of the Tiger, which fit me wonderfully, and I imagine would befit you as well. Draw the Silver Horn, my student, and imagine the claw of a tiger, with talons extended as you do so._ "

Somewhat dubious, Kale did so. His eyes widened as he saw the long battle blade seem to shimmer slightly, and reform silently and swiftly into a long-taloned claw that fit perfectly and comfortably over his hand. He grinned widely at this.

" _Learning the Way of the Tiger will take some time, but less time than you think. Far less time certainly than if you had found a sensei less skilled than me, at any rate. Far better you learn it from me than from a Lunar who takes the shape of a huge half-man, half-tiger to train you!_ "

Kale smirked at hearing Melia's tinkling laughter. Modest, she was not.

* * *

Aya was still breathing a little heavily after her fight with the stone soldier. It was just as strong as she was. Though it wasn't as fast, it was highly resilient, shrugging off most of her strikes as a horse would a fly. It had taken her the better part of an hour of move and countermove to defeat it at last. The soldier got up, saluted her with its stone sword, and stepped to the side to allow her passage. She nodded to it in return, saluting it in the same way it had her. It might be a simple automata, but it had given her a serious fight.

She stepped cautiously into the room beyond, and found a smaller circular room, with a single glowing circle in the center of the high-walled chamber. Walking cautiously toward it, she placed one foot onto it, hearing Melek's deep baritone voice booming around her.

" _Hello again, my successor. You have surpassed my challenge of combat. If you are anything like me, you attempted this challenge first._ "

Aya smiled at this.

" _Before I give you the armament I've stored here, you must learn their history, so that you know how to properly treat the items I bequeath to you, my successor._ "

The central circle's soft glow faded, and two more appeared on either side of the room. Shrugging slightly, Aya walked toward the one on the left. She was rewarded by Melek's voice as her foot touched the circle.

" _So, you choose a weapon first. I admit to being surprised, my successor, as defense is equally important as offense. Very well, then. Hear the story of the Crissaegrim._ "

A door opened silently behind the circle, revealing a larger room with a pedestal in the center. Standing point-down in this pedestal was an elegant, beautifully-made sword. Aya's eyes shone as she beheld the weapon. As if in a dream, she walked toward it slowly, looking closely at the shimmering blade.

As she approached, she heard Melek's voice once more. " _In a terrible battle against the Yozi, I lost seven of my best generals in the same battle. All of them were angered at having fallen in battle by mere demons, so none of them wished to be reborn into their next lifetimes. Instead, they pleaded with me to allow them to remain, helping me and the remainder of my army against the enemies of the Sun._ "

Melek's voice fell silent, and Aya saw a ghostly figure fade into view in front of the pedestal. The figure was a very tall, thin, grim-looking man with short-cropped white hair and slightly bluish skin, wearing blue jade armor. The ghostly figure looked at her curiously before speaking. "I admit to being surprised. Are you Melek's chosen?"

Aya looked at him curiously for a few moments before replying, standing straighter and inclining her head as she did. "Yes. My name is Aya, recently Exalted of the Dawn."

The figure nodded, pursing his ghostly lips. "Very well, then. Pardon my surprise at seeing you. May I see your Caste Mark?"

Aya's Caste Mark flared into view, a golden sun surrounded with twelve golden spokes. "Is this what you wished to see, wraith?"

The figure chuckled, a ghostly, echoing sound. "Excellent. My name was Tauron, and I was an Air-Aspected Dragon-Blooded general, serving Melek for many years before I fell. Use this blade well, Aya of the Dawn, and all those within it shall strike with you."

He then faded silently from view, replaced by another figure to his left. Aya's eyebrows rose as she beheld the ghostly figure. It was a huge being, at least nine feet tall, with a broad, scaly build. Natural armored plates covered his dark sand-colored skin, with thicker ones on his back and long blunt tail. His tail swished slowly from side to side as he stood, rooted on two huge legs like twin oak trees. His voice sounded like boulders being ground together by some mighty unseen hand. "I am Vashok. I led the Dragon Kings to glorious battle. I followed Melek with my whole heart, as he served the Sun, as did we. Use this blade with honor, young Solar, and we will strike with all our might as you strike. Attack dishonorably, and we will leave you."

With no further preamble, he faded from view, replaced by a figure standing to his left. This figure was a tall, broad-shouldered, fair-skinned brunette woman with a stern face. She looked Aya up and down, finally raising a ghostly eyebrow as she looked Aya in the eyes. "I admit to being surprised, Child of the Dawn. I had expected Melek to choose a man. No matter, it was high time a woman carried the Essence. Your name is Aya?"

Aya nodded once, not averting her eyes from the figure's gaze. "And your name is?"

The figure smiled slightly. "Pardon my manners. I am Ypheera, Chosen of the Earth to be Exalted with mighty Dragon's Blood in my veins. I standardized the battalion of Speardancers, wreaking glorious havoc on the enemies of the Sun and Gaia. Strike honorably and true, Aya, and I will lend my precision and strength behind your arm."

Aya nodded to the woman as she faded from view, replaced by another figure, on the right side of the room. This figure had flame-red hair, slightly reddish skin, and wore blazing red jade armor. He had a grim scowl on his face as he looked askance at her. He was succinct. "I am Tren, Chosen of Fire by the will of the ancient Dragons. Bring death and destruction to enemies of the Sun!"

He was replaced by another figure, fading into view next to him. She had deeply tanned skin, and long green hair tied behind her head in a ponytail. She appeared with arms crossed over her chest, wearing heavy green jade armor. She nodded to Aya as she appeared. "I am pleased to meet the one Melek chose as his successor. My name is Rena, with the blood of the Wood Dragons flowing through me. When you unsheathe this blade, remember to always fight when it brings benefit to more than yourself, and do not only fight when it benefits only you."

Aya shook her head slightly. Just how many ghosts did this blade contain?

As if in answer, another ghost appeared, smiling slightly at her. This figure was different from the others, in that he wore no shirt, and no armor. He had a shaved head, with tanned skin. He bowed gracefully to Aya. "I am pleased to meet the one Melek chose to carry on his duty to the Sun. My name is Uon, chosen by the Dragons of the Earth to carry on their honor and power. I fought with no weapons, so I find it ironic now to bless Melek's successor with my skill contained within a weapon. However, as long as you fight for the good of others and of the world, we will help you."

He bowed at her once more, which Aya returned. He smiled as he inclined his head slightly, before disappearing. He was swiftly replaced by a woman with short black hair and pale skin wearing black armor, which made Aya's eyes widen slightly. The women looked as surprised as she. "By the Sun's might! Are you also from a place near a Shadowland?"

Aya smiled slightly as she shook her head. "No, I was born like this. I do not know my ancestry as well as I'd like."

The woman smiled warmly in return. It seemed almost uncanny. Perhaps she was a distant relative? The woman spoke up again. "Aya, my name in life was Noria. I achieved the great honor of being a general of an army, even though I wasn't Exalted. I was a normal human when I died, though I always fought with ferocity and honor equal to any Exalted I served with. Strike well, Aya of the Dawn, and I shall lend you my strength as well."

The woman nodded respectfully to Aya, who returned the gesture with a smile. After she faded from view, Melek's voice was heard once more. " _If you feel that you can contain and direct the might of seven of the strongest generals to ever live, my successor, then draw the blade, and sheath it at your side._ "

Aya walked closer to the blade, and slowly extended her left arm to the handle of the weapon. Electricity seemed to flow through her briefly as she clasped the handle strongly, and drew it from the pedestal. She held the blade in both hands, looking with wonder at the beautiful warrior's blade. The sword was made fit for a king, she thought with wonder. Or a Solar General, she thought with a smile.

With that thought, she grabbed the scabbard from atop the pedestal, and sheathed it smoothly at her side. She walked smoothly back into the previous room, approaching the other circle.

* * *

Kale emerged from his temple feeling dirty, and tired. His elbows and knees ached from crawling over the unforgiving marble for what seemed like hours. He wasn't complaining though, as he had learned much about Melia, and how to use the Silver Horn in the form of a claw. He grinned as he looked at the gleaming orichalcum claw on his other hand. He still liked using the large, two-handed sword form of the Silver Horn, as it reminded him of his father. However, learning to fight as a furious tiger definitely held intriguing possibilities.

He nearly had a heart attack as he saw Aya emerge from her temple. Had she become an Abyssal again? She wore pure black armor as she walked with head held high out of the temple. He relaxed slightly as he saw that despite the armor being black, it reflected the afternoon sunlight strongly. Curiously, he looked at Aya's right side, where two swords were sheathed, a shorter one about an inch above a longer one. She smiled warmly at him. "Learn anything interesting, Kale?"

Kale raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, I'm learning how to fight like a tiger." He kept his voice nonchalant, though he was slightly worried. "So, did you find anything interesting?"

Aya grinned more widely, Kale being thankful that her smile was warm and kind as she approached. "You could say that. This is Melek's old war armor, given to him by a Dragon King dying in battle. Don't worry, it's definitely not soulsteel, though I'm not quite sure exactly what it's made from." She smiled a bit more widely. Did he really think he could hide his worry?

Thankfully, she saw him relax slightly, and smile back at her. "Sorry, I just thought..."

She swiftly walked in front of him, and shushed him by gently putting a finger over his lips. "I know, Kale. I know I made you worry, but rest assured: I am, and will always remain a Child of the Sun." She gently held his head in her hands as she stood on the tips of her toes to kiss him gently on the forehead.

She leaned back and smiled brightly at him. "I also learned a neat trick from Melek." She closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. Kale's eyes went wide as her armor and the longer of the two swords quietly faded away, leaving her in her traveling clothes, though she still had the shorter of the two swords at her side. She opened her eyes to look at him, grinning. "Interesting trick, don't you think?"

Kale chuckled as he drew the Silver Horn, willing it to appear in the shape he was used to: the large, two-handed battle blade. "I learned something pretty nice as well. Name a melee weapon."

Aya tilted her head to the side, looking thoughtfully at him. "Alright. A single-bladed one-handed axe."

Kale concentrated, asking the weapon to reform without words. It did so silently, its gleaming metal shimmering and flowing as it reformed itself into the chosen weapon. Aya's eyes went wide with delight. "What a delightful find!" She looked him in the eyes again. "What form will you normally use it with?"

The Silver Horn reformed itself into the silver and gold-colored claw atop his right hand, Kale grinning as it silently altered its shape again. Aya's eyebrows raised again, looking a little worried. "Do you plan on using another weapon besides the claw?"

Kale nodded with a smile. "Yep. Don't worry, it's not a scimitar." He reached into his jacket pocket, slipping his hand inside the other claw, and withdrew it. Aya smiled again as she inspected the two claws closely. "Very nice, Kale. Becoming a martial artist now?"

He chuckled at this, and put both weapons away. They walked back to his cabin, made dinner, and spent at least three hours talking about anything, nothing, and everything, laughing often. A few more hours passed, and they began yawning, almost at the same time, agreeing it was now time for sleep.

Several months passed of this routine. Both of them seemed comfortable with it. Aya had even begun thanking him with a soft kiss on the lips when she awoke for him being willing to comfort her nightmares away. She looked apologetic about imposing on him about such things, but he waved away her concerns. "I know you'd do the same for me, so I don't mind doing so for you," he'd replied with a smile.

One fateful night, Aya had another nightmare, which didn't surprise Kale. He got up, slid into bed next to her, and held her close as he ran his fingers through her hair until the nightmare left her. He fell asleep next to her, as he normally did now.

He awoke the next morning to find her looking at him with a look he hadn't seen from her before. She was gently running her fingers through his hair, looking at him as he awoke. He turned to look at her, and she smiled as their eyes met. "Morning, sleepyhead," she said softly.

Kale smiled back at her as he stretched, preparing to get up. As he tried, she gently put her hand on his chest. He looked at her curiously. "What, don't you want to race the sun this morning?"

She shook her head with a slight smile. "No, not this morning."

He began to look concerned. "Why? What's wrong?"

Aya smiled softly at him as she began slowly touching his face again. "Nothing is wrong, Kale. I just...wanted to talk to you about something."

The concerned look didn't leave his face, but he settled back down into bed to look at her. She snuggled up next to him, putting her head on his shoulder to look him in the eyes from only a few inches away. She bit her lip gently, a look of trepidation on her face.

Kale put his arms around her, and she snuggled a little closer. He waited patiently for her to continue. She did so, after a few moments of looking as if she were collecting her thoughts. "You've saved my life selflessly, you've been there for me when nobody else would be. As children, I considered you my closest friend, and loved every moment we spent together."

She smiled at him softly, pausing for a few more moments before continuing, taking a deep breath before she did. "What I'm trying to say is that...I...I love you, Kale. I love you as my closest friend, I love you as my confidant, I love you as my sparring partner, I love you for the boy you were, and most of all, I love you for the man you've become."

Kale's eyes widened slightly, but he smiled back. He took a breath to speak, but she shook her head. "Please, let me keep going. This is difficult for me."

He nodded, just holding her close. She continued after a few moments more. "I want to make love with you to show it to you."

Kale's eyes widened slightly. "I'm honored Aya, and I'd be lying if I said I didn't feel the same way, all of it. I love you too, in the same ways. But you don't need to prove it to me by making love. You don't need to prove it at all."

Aya smiled widely at him, leaning over to kiss him softly on the lips. "I know, Kale. And that's why I want to." She looked downcast for a moment. "I've only...done so once. It wasn't making love." She looked at him again, sadly. "The Mask of Winters raped me a few months after I was given the Black Exaltation to become an Abyssal."

Kale's eyes grew wide with shock, and then swiftly narrowed in anger. That bastard seemed really good at ruining things. Aya looked more worried as she studied his face. "Do you...do you still love me, even though I've been taken by him?"

He smiled at this. "Of course I do, silly. I'm mad at him, certainly not at you."

She smiled at him, her whole face lighting up as she did. "All I ask is that...you be gentle. If I ask you to stop, please stop, okay?"

Kale nodded, and hugged her closely, pressing his forehead against hers. They both opened their eyes, remembering how they did this as children, jokingly calling each other cyclops. Kale spoke softly. "You say stop, and I'll stop."

Aya bit her lip as she looked at him. "You won't be mad or upset if I do? I don't want to feel like I led you on if...if I have to ask you to stop."

Kale kissed her gently, before pulling back with a smile to look into her blue eyes. "Don't worry. I understand completely, and I won't be mad, upset, or angry at all if you tell me to stop. Okay?"

She nodded, smiling again.

They didn't leave the cabin at all that day.

* * *

Kale smiled at the memory as he stared at the ceiling. He knew she loved him every bit as much as he loved her, and for the same reasons. He also knew that she couldn't settle down with him and live a quiet life, at least not yet. The thoughts of the people she killed, and the rest of her past still haunted her greatly. She wouldn't be able to rest at all until she had come to terms with it, and dealt with her past in the best way she knew.

If she needed to retake Thorns to do it, then so be it. He had no idea how she was planning on doing so. She had replied that she was waiting for the time to be right before she started doing so, and wouldn't say anything more about it. However, the both of them still made the journey to their temples every morning after their morning run. If it had been up to Kale, they would have gone every week, but she seemed driven to learn as much as possible, as fast as possible. This underlying feeling of urgency made itself felt every day, especially at seeing just how hard she worked to learn how to use the Solar essence within her, and everything that Melek could teach her.

For his part, Kale spent his time learning what Melia had to teach. Though Melia's stored speech sometimes gave him advice to make sure to brush his hair with one hundred strokes per day, or other feminine advice, he enjoyed learning about Melia's past, and her thoughts as she recorded them. However, Melia's advice on making a contraceptive tea was immediately passed onto Aya, who quickly made use of it.

His reverie was broken by shouts outside his window. He quickly looked out the window to the sky; it wasn't even sunrise yet.

"Hide! Hide in your homes and lock the doors! The barbarians come! The barbarians come!"

Aya sat swiftly upright to look outside the window. She turned to look calmly at Kale, and smiled. "It is time."


	44. The Swift Shadow of the Dawn

Kale dressed as quickly as possible, making sure to put the sheathed claws in his jacket pockets. He glanced at Aya, who was being actually quite calm. Even so, they finished getting ready to rush outside about the same time. Kale didn't know what she thought she was going to do with only the short sword at her side. It was made of orichalcum and attuned to her, sure, but even so.

They walked out of the inn together to see what few townspeople remained outside rushing toward their homes, the mayor outside urging people on, though he was still in his nightclothes. Kale looked askance at Aya, as she had a small, peaceful smile on her face as she walked calmly to the mayor of the small town. "Pardon me, but which direction are the barbarians coming from?"

The mayor turned to look at her as if she had completely lost her mind. "Are you insane, lady? Hurry, get into the inn and hide beneath your bed!"

Aya just smiled gently at him. "Which direction, please?"

The mayor shook his head at her, not believing what he was hearing. Wordlessly, he pointed to the West, and then scampered off to his own home. Aya called her thanks after him before turning to face Kale. She stepped close to him, put her hands gently on his cheeks, and looked deeply into his eyes.

She just looked into his eyes for a few seconds, a soft smile on her face as she held his head gently between her hands. "I love you," she said before kissing him gently, before pulling away. Her face broke into a grin. "I'll be back shortly."

Kale just shook his head as she marched over to the West wallgate, but saw that her new black armor and sword had shimmered into existence upon her before she closed the gate after her.

The mayor walked out, looking around, and looking back at Kale. "Hey, where'd that woman go?"

Kale just smirked, while shaking his head slightly. "She went to go have a talk with the barbarians, I think."

The mayor's eyebrows looked as if they were flying upward to try hiding under his nightcap. "About what?"

Kale chuckled. "I have no idea, but knowing her, she'll be back soon."

The mayor just shook his head wonderingly, as he stared at the West wallgate.

* * *

Golgol Fangs-Through Eye yelled as loudly as any of the barbarians running with him. He was running in his human shape now, as the strength of his Wolf totem wasn't needed yet. Though he was in the skin of a human now, he was head and shoulders above most barbarians in his horde.

He was as angry as any of the barbarians at the small city folk of Mishaka; more so, even. His people had asked for food more than once in the past, but were met with insults and stones. His promise as he left Mishaka that fateful day was that he would come back every two years. If there wasn't a stash of food outside the town in exchange for the sack of furs and other tradable items left there the week previous, the town would be raided.

His eyes narrowed as they approached the town, and he saw no sack of food. Nor did he see the bundle of furs he had delivered personally a week ago. However, there was a figure approaching them at a swift jog. He couldn't make out the figure's features, but knew the figure to be alone.

The figure stopped a hundred yards away from them, and yelled "Halt! I would speak with you!" in a loud, clear voice. Golgol Fangs-Through Eye was somewhat surprised, the voice was that of a woman.

He and his horde approached the figure without slowing down. The Eastern horizon was beginning to lighten, revealing more of the woman. She had long black hair that blended into the darkness of the armor she wore, each as black as the other. Her face was pale, set with brilliant blue eyes that regarded them unblinkingly.

Golgol slowed down barely a few feet away from her, his people doing the same. He looked the woman up and down, not quite believing her foolishness. Still, she didn't even twitch as she looked calmly back at him. He saw that she had two swords at her right side; a shorter one above a longer one, both made in the same style, and both in black, reflective scabbards that matched her armor. Who did this woman think she was?

"You want to speak? Do not prattle, for I have little patience!"

The woman looked coolly back at him, staring him in the eyes. "Why do you attack this small, nearly insignificant town when there are worse things loose in the world?"

Golgol blinked at this, before snarling, a little of his Wolf totem's mannerisms taking shape within him. "For our own reasons. Why do you stand alone to stop us?"

The woman didn't even blink. "Because I could lead you to a better purpose than this."

Golgol was stunned at the woman's audacity. He laughed loudly into the early morning, his body growing as he felt the Wolf melding with his human shape. His snout lengthened, hair sprouted all over his body, and he was soon looking down on the woman from nine feet above the ground. He answered with a deep snarl. "This horde follows me, and me alone. Do you think you could defeat me for their leadership?"

As before, she still hadn't blinked, nor did she even twitch as he assumed his war form, only looking up slightly to continue looking him in the eyes. "If I must."

Golgol snarled his challenge, baring his teeth. "Are you ready to duel a Child of Luna, foolish woman?"

The woman didn't even move, even as he withdrew his great cleaver, now reflecting Luna's strength riding high within him, appearing larger and much more roughly-hewn. "Name the rules by which you duel then, Lunar."

He settled into a crouch, the talons of his right hand extending and retracting, eager to rend his enemy. "To the death, but the loser has the option of crying 'Pax' to forfeit."

The woman took a single step back, put her left hand on the handle of the larger blade and her right hand on the scabbard of the blade, but didn't draw the sword. "Very well. I give you the option of saying 'Pax' now."

Golgol couldn't help it. His eyes never left her, but his rough laughter echoed loudly throughout the plains. "And why is that?" he asked with a loud snarl.

The woman hadn't moved, still in a crouch, her blade still sheathed. Her long, ebon straight hair began blowing gently in the early morning breeze as she stared at him. "Because my first strike will slay you."

At that moment, the sun rose. Golgol didn't know if this was fate or an omen, but the sun rose directly behind the woman, making her appear to be a dark spot in the center of the blinding morning sun. He heard her voice. again, sounding perfectly calm. "Are you ready, Lunar?"

His eyes were blinded, but he didn't need his sight to fight. On the contrary, he could be blinded and still fight as well as the best Lunars could even with their eyes. His nose and ears compensated perfectly, allowing him to notice even the imperceptible things.

Golgol Fangs-Through-Eye rushed at her with a loud howl, his cleaver raised as he prepared to cleave her in two. She didn't move in the least as he swiftly closed the distance. He began slashing downward, only to hear a whisper of movement, and feeling his cleaver hit nothing but air. His ears told him that she was behind him now.

He chuckled. He hadn't even felt a scratch. "Is that the best you can do?"

Golgol's ears told him that she had swiftly cleaned her blade, and heard the soft whispering noise of her sheathing the blade once more. "Why do you sheath your blade, woman? Our duel is not even close to done!"

The woman's voice seemed to cut him. "It is for you." His ears told him that she was faced away from him, facing his horde.

Golgol Fangs-Through-Eye looked down at his chest, and saw a thin red line from his shoulder to his hip, beginning to slowly ooze blood. He grinned as he saw it. Barely a scratch, he thought. Now the woman would die. He began to turn, but felt as if he were underwater. His legs wouldn't obey him as his torso turned. In shock, he felt his upper body sliding down; slowly at first, then faster, when he fell face-first onto the ground. He looked up, and saw his lower body still standing precariously next to him. He gasped, not quite believing what had happened.

His vision began to fade, as he thought in wonder at what had happened. Though he had died in battle, a glorious death, it felt...cheapened somehow. He could still hear for the moment, and heard her soft footsteps coming near him, and heard her breath from above him. Her voice wasn't cold and cool anymore; indeed, she sounded almost sad. "A great warrior should not die over something so trivial. Say Pax, and I can heal your wound."

Golgol was still stunned at what had happened. Morbid curiosity won him over, as he wondered how she was planning on healing him. "Pax," he whispered.

She gently moved his torso to lay flat on his back, and swiftly moved his lower body, rejoining the two halves of his body once more. He dimly felt her hands on the thin red line that separated the two halves of his body, and began to feel warmth, then heat from her hands. His vision began to come back, and he took a mighty gasp as his lungs filled with air once more. He blinked a few times, to see her standing above him, with a hand extended to him.

Unbelievingly, he extended his hand to her, and felt her much smaller hand close strongly over his huge clawed hand, pulling him swiftly to his feet. He first looked at her, not quite believing what had happened, before looking down at where the thin red line had been only a few moments before. Now, there was a thin, barely-noticable scar, but it was completely healed. He looked down at her again, his form shifting back into that of a human as he narrowed his eyes at her. "My name is Golgol Fangs-Through-Eye, of the Wild and Full Moon. Do you have a name?"

She inclined her head slightly, her expression cool once more. "My name is Aya."

Golgol looked sternly at her, his right hand over his mouth as he thought. "Among my people, Aya, it is customary for the loser of a duel to give a title to the winner if the winner does not have one. Do you have a title, Aya?"

She shook her head. "I have no title other than what I am."

He raised a bushy eyebrow. "Which is?"

She inclined her head once more. "I am a Child of the Dawn."

Golgol was silent for a moment, then broke into loud laughter. "I am honored to meet you, Aya, Child of the Sun. I am no longer as mystified as I was a moment ago! However, if you have no objections, I'd like to give you a title befitting one like you."

She tiled her head slightly to the side, looking at him curiously. "Very well. What is the title you wish to bestow upon me?"

Golgol looked at her with a feral grin. "Right before we dueled, I looked at you, as you resembled a shadow in the morning sun. My name for you is Aya, the Dawnshadow."

She nodded thoughtfully, before bowing respectfully. "Thank you, I am honored by the title."

He bowed in return, still a little suspicious. "Most people would not heal their enemy's wounds after a duel, Aya the Dawnshadow. Why did you?"

Her reply was thoughtful. "I will not take a life unless I must. It is always much easier to destroy than create; to harm instead of heal. A true warrior must know also how to heal the wounds one causes, to better understand the life in all things. You are not my enemy, Lunar."

Golgol looked at her curiously. "You are a strange one, Solar. But I must ask - what will you do with my horde?"

Her hair blew slightly in the morning breeze once more as she stood stock-still, an expression of peace and surety on her face. "I will train them to become the best army the world has seen in many centuries, and I will use this army to retake Thorns for the living."

Golgol's eyes went slightly wide at this. "I see. And what will you do if you win?"

She smiled slightly, a soft expression of humor stealing into her face, like clouds stealing across the morning sky. "I will leave the army there to settle Thorns. To remember the way of the blade I shall teach them, to pass down through generations. It will be the city of the living once more, ever vigilant for those who would covet what they protect."

He looked at her curiously this time. "And what of you? Will you settle there as well, to reign as queen, or general of armies?"

She shook her head, a serious expression on her face. "No. My title will be that of teacher, and once they are trained well enough to know the way of the warrior, then I will no longer be needed. I will try to live a quiet life afterward, if I can."

Golgol studied her carefully. "A remarkably unselfish goal. And why are you being so magnanimous, if I may ask?"

The woman looked downcast; almost sad. Her hair was still fluttering slightly in the breeze as she regarded him. "It is to atone for something I've done. Something terrible must be balanced by something good. In my case, it might not be enough, but it is a start."

Golgol simply nodded, not saying anything at first. He decided that it would be prudent to not ask for further detail, though he could tell that her past hung over her head like a dark, pregnant raincloud. For her, perhaps this was a way to help the sun shine through the clouds once more, that she might know peace once again. "Alright, Aya the Dawnshadow. I leave my horde in your hands." He grinned savagely. "I warn you, they're probably not as disciplined as you'd like."

She smiled warmly back at him. "Give me time."

Golgol chuckled, and bowed respectfully to her, seeing her return the gesture with a smile. He stood again, and turned to leave. After he took a few steps, her voice bade him halt. "Why do you leave?"

He turned slightly to hear her over his shoulder. "My horde is now yours, by honorable combat. I depart back to the lands my people call home."

She was silent for a moment, but spoke up as he took another step. "I am honored to have dueled you, Golgol Fangs-Through-Eye. May your years be peaceful and filled with plenty for you and yours."

He turned to look at her, grinning ferally. "A Lunar who has plenty is a Lunar who grows old and soft. I take your well-wishes with good sentiment regardless." He nodded to her once more, and shifted his form to that of his totem animal - the wolf. His sense of smell sharpened, his long wolf strides rapidly eating up the distance as he ran off under the bright morning sun.

* * *

Kale was beginning to pace the wall's top impatiently. She had been gone for twenty minutes now. He had looked beyond the town gates, looking into the distance to see her facing the horde, though he couldn't make out any details at this distance. He stopped pacing as he saw that she was walking back toward the town, followed by the barbarian horde. To his surprise, the barbarian horde wasn't yelling or screaming their battlecries. Instead, they were marching silently behind her.

Within minutes, she had arrived at the wall gate, and knocked politely. Kale opened the door, and looked behind her with surprise. All the barbarians were still covered with daub and warpaint, but were standing in formation, silently and with straight postures. He looked back at Aya, who was smiling at him.

She turned to face the horde. "You will run in circuit around this town ten times, and stop here once you are finished. You will not slow down, you will not move at anything slower than a jog. Move!"

Kale was surprised to see all of them nod, a few making half-hearted attempts at saluting her before taking off at a swift jog. She watched them until they turned the corner, and turned her attention back to Kale, smiling warmly at him. Aya walked almost jauntily up to him, threw her arms around his neck, and kissed him tenderly. "I have a favor to ask of you, my beloved."

Kale's eyebrows raised slightly in question as he smiled back at her. "Yes, gorgeous?"

She smiled a little more widely at that, kissing him once again before speaking. "Would you mind going back to Ayodha and seeing if Morjin still stays there? He mentioned being a metalsmith, and I'd like to see if he'd be willing to lend his skills once more. An army has need of proper arms."


	45. Journeys of Night, Preparations of Dawn

As Kale awoke with a yawn, he looked out the window of their small room at the inn, seeing that it was a half hour away from sunrise. Aya had her head on his shoulder, her arms around him as she slumbered. He chuckled quietly before kissing her gently on the forehead. He whispered to her softly as he prepared to get out of bed, and saw that she was preventing him from leaving. "Morning, love. I need to get ready to go."

Her arms tightened around him, her legs entwining around his as she snuggled closer to him. He heard a sleepy "no" from her.

Chuckling, he kissed her again. "Sorry love, but the sooner I leave, the sooner I get back and see your beautiful face again."

She made a small noise before speaking sleepily. "I know intellectually that you have to go, but my heart won't listen."

Kale put his arms around her, kissing her softly. "I'll be back soon, I promise."

She sighed before kissing him back with a sleepy smile. "I need to get up too. Wait for me, I'll walk you out."

It struck both of them how strange it was for this to feel so normal as they got dressed at the same time. She dressed in clothes she had bought recently, a loose-fitting shirt and pants, Kale dressing in his traveling clothes. Aya finished before he did, and was looking at him with a half-smile on her face as he put on his jacket, putting the sheathed claws in the pockets afterward.

They walked out together, Kale asking the innkeeper for a quick portable breakfast, and being impressed by how quickly one was made for him. He tossed the innkeeper a couple copper coins for his trouble, which earned him a smile from the half-awake man.

As they left the inn together, Aya slipped her hand into his, walking hand in hand to the wallgate as they walked in silence. Aya broke the silence first. "It's so strange to me."

Kale looked at her curiously. "What's strange?"

She looked up at him with a half-smile. "To think for so long that love was something silly and pointless, and then be proven wrong, and by you, of all people. The man I never expected to see again."

Kale chuckled. "Yeah, I know what you mean. I have to say though, you're nicer than you used to be."

She smirked at him before punching him lightly in the arm. "Sometimes."

As they reached the wallgate, they kissed softly. Kale looked at her solemnly. "I'm not saying goodbye."

She smiled warmly up at him. "Fine, until I see you again, then. It had better be two weeks or less, or I'm going to hunt you."

Kale laughed at this. "See you in a few weeks, gorgeous."

He was out of the gate, walking with long strides until her voice stopped him. "Hey! Aren't you forgetting something?"

Kale turned around, looking at her curiously. "What?"

She slung something underhanded to him. He caught it, seeing that it was his bracer. He smiled as he slipped it on his wrist before calling back. "Thanks!"

Her chuckling carried to him in the early morning breeze. "Don't mention it."

Kale walked with the long strides of one who was used to traveling long distances on foot. He knew it would take about five days to reach Ayodha on foot, less if he decided to run. Since there wasn't as much urgency, he decided to just walk, and enjoy the sights.

He had walked half the day before something told him he was being followed. He didn't look around anxiously, but just looked as if he were taking in the sights, as indeed he was. He saw and heard little things, as if he were being tracked by someone quite experienced. However, being an expert tracker himself, the little signs weren't lost on him.

It was a few more hours before he even caught a small glimpse of who was following him, seeing a nearly imperceptible tail within the foliage. It was an orange and black striped tail, twitching from side to side slightly. That made him curious; what was a tiger doing around here? This also raised the question of why the tiger was stalking him.

He decided to not worry about it for now, as the tiger hadn't made any threatening movements, and didn't appear to be trying to find a place from which to pounce on him yet. He kept his senses keen, but didn't slow his stride in the least.

The tiger kept following him from a safe distance all day, disappearing once the sun began to set. Kale figured he'd see the tiger again tomorrow, and began to find a place to spend the night. Seeing a tree with dense foliage, he darted up into it, and began to get comfortable.

He was awakened in the middle of the night by the sounds of distant screams, and laughter. His eyebrows narrowed; that didn't sound normal. He hopped out of the tree lightly, and channeled some essence into his anima to choke the senses of anyone who might notice him. To be on the safe side, he also hid his scent before darting silently toward the strange sounds.

The gem glowed silently beneath his jacket sleeve as he ran swiftly and silently toward the noise. He found what had caused the noise soon enough. A group of peasants was surrounded by skeletons and zombies, with a single man, dressed in black soulsteel armor smiling cruelly at the peasants. Kale's eyes narrowed as he slipped his hands in the pockets of his jacket, and slipped on his claws.

"No, please, don't kill any more of my family!" One of the peasants was crying hysterically.

The man chuckled, a sound filled with malice. "And why shouldn't I? Death comes for us all, and it comes for all of you tonight. Don't worry your worthless little minds, you shall serve a much better purpose in death than you ever did in life."

Kale had heard enough. He decided that announcing himself and telling the man to stop was pointless, especially because the skeletons and zombies appeared to be under his control. He crept behind the man, and ducked down into a crouch, launching himself soundlessly at the man in the way Melia had taught him.

The man was suddenly on his back, with Kale's foot on his chest. The man's armor was now torn by eight deep scratches, now beginning to bleed slowly. Kale looked down at the man, shaking his head slightly. "You have one chance to call off your dogs, and have you and them remain intact."

The man sneered up at Kale as shadows began to gather around them. "And if I refuse?"

Kale struck the man across the face, four deep red scratches appearing on the side of his face. "That's not the answer I asked for. Yes or no."

The man glared hatefully up at Kale. "You're taking an awful risk, human. It's not often anyone manages to surprise a Child of the Abyss!"

Kale smiled thinly down at the man. "That's only because your kind don't show their worthless hides up on the surface much. So, are you going to call off your dogs and walk away, or do you want to see if you fare any better in your next incarnation?"

The man glared even more balefully. "Let me up, and you shall have my answer."

His head was knocked to the side, as four more deep red scratches appeared on the other side of his face. Kale shook his head as he looked scornfully down at the man. "That's not how this works. Last chance."

Kale's ears heard the slow shuffling of the zombies, and the clacking noise of the skeletons beginning to walk toward them. The man smiled hatefully up at Kale. "Now, you arrogant and foolish waste of flesh, you die!"

The man's head bounced against the ground as Kale punched him savagely once more before hopping up. Kale spun around and struck a skeleton in the same movement, causing it to crumple to the ground, motionless.

The man wiped the blood out of his eyes as he struggled to his feet. Once his vision cleared, he looked around in shock. All the zombies and skeletons were laying on the ground, somewhat intact. None of them were moving. He looked around, and saw Kale standing between him and the peasants.

He drew his long, serrated blade, sneering at Kale as he did so. His Caste Mark burned and blackened into existence on his forehead, a large and simple black dot, beginning to bleed slightly. "You dare to destroy my minions? You will wish you had spent every day of your life peeling off your skin with a dull knife before bathing in salt water, for such a feeling will feel like a pleasant breeze compared to the torments that await you!"

Kale moved one foot back, holding up both of his clawed fists. His narrowed eyes boring into the Abyssal's angry ones, unblinking. "Bring it."

The Abyssal ran and swung savagely at Kale, who was suddenly no longer there. Without warning, his head snapped to the side, the side of his head burning in pain. "You're going to have to be faster than that if you want to make good on your threat, fatass."

With a roar, the Abyssal swung once, twice, three times at Kale, who dodged each strike scornfully. The Abyssal never saw how it happened, but he was now on his back again, his chest burning in agony. He heard the arrogant human's voice reach his ears. "Maybe next lifetime."

The man didn't see the next strike, but felt it tear savagely into his chest. He could feel life leaving him as the world went dark.

Kale decided to escort the humans to Ayodha, as they'd be safer there. What were Abyssals and the undead doing roaming around the countryside unchallenged? Where were the Immaculate patrols? He sighed as he cleaned his claws, and slipped them back into his jacket pockets.

The peasants were thanking him profusely, which made him feel slightly embarrassed. He waved off their thanks with a simple "It was no trouble."

Both Kale and the peasants traveled the rest of the week, reaching Ayodha as the sun was going down a few days later. The guards hailed them at the gate, looking slightly nervous. "Halt! State your business!"

Kale didn't recognize either of the guards. He hailed them in return. "We're travelers, seeking a safe place to spend the night."

Two guards, in Immaculate red jade armor marched over to them, and looked at them all thoroughly. "Very well, enter in peace. Know that you shall be watched, however."

Kale and the peasants all made acquiescing noises, and were allowed inside. Kale walked straight to the innkeeper, who was thankfully still open, and paid for 11 rooms; one for him, and for the peasants as well. He told the peasants, who embarrassed him further with their profuse thanks, earning curious stares from the guards. Thankfully, nothing more was said as they all went to their separate rooms, sleeping the night away.

When Kale awoke, he looked around the town wonderingly. It seemed like the Immaculate guard had pretty much taken over all the defenses of the town, and had even begun training troops there. Townspeople still remained, doing business as usual, though there was an air of underlying urgency felt from everyone.

He made polite inquiries to the townspeople he saw up and about as to the whereabouts of Morjin or Gordray. Thanks to the directions of the greengrocer, he finally located Morjin sitting alone in the tavern, drinking tea and staring out the window. "Morning, Morjin. How's the tea?"

Morjin nearly choked on his tea as he saw who it was. "Kale! I'm glad to see you are well. Please, sit and join me for a cup of tea this fine morning."

Kale thanked him, and sat down, pouring himself a cup. He sipped the tea, and smiled. It had been a while since he had drunk the Ayodha morning tea, rumored to wake the drinker up enough to run a marathon. "Morjin, I have a favor to ask of you."

Morjin inclined a greying eyebrow as he took a sip of his tea, answering once he had set the cup down. "Yes, what can I do for you, Kale?"

"Well, you mentioned once that you were a metalsmith. Can you make weapons and armor as well?"

Morjin chuckled quietly. "My old skills haven't left me, no. Did you have anything specific in mind?"

Kale cleared his throat, looking around slyly to ensure that no overly curious people were listening. "She's found herself the beginnings of an army, and she needed to outfit them properly. Naturally, we thought of you."

Morjin chuckled quietly. "She certainly moved quickly, I'll grant her that."

Kale smiled softly, thinking of Aya. "Yeah, she even surprised me."

Morjin nodded, and was about to speak when a course voice interrupted them.

"Hey boy, ya need the services of a blacksmith, and you didn't think of asking Norath, the Iron Wolf? I'm insulted!"

Kale looked at the large, broad-chested man who smelled slightly of the earth after a fresh rain. "Sure, if you want to come along and help, and if Morjin doesn't mind, that would be fine. What kind of payment would you want?"

"Depends on what yer offerin', and what kind of job yer talkin' 'bout?", the man asked while drying his hands.

Kale looked thoughtfully at both men, noticing that Morjin was looking at him curiously as well. "Well, so far it looks like we'll need very well-made weapons and armor for at least two hundred men, and probably more. You'd have to speak to the person in charge once we get to the town for precise details, but that's what I know so far."

Morjin nodded thoughtfully. Norath sat down in the booth next to them, eyebrows knitted in thought. "What kind of payment ya offerin'?"

Kale smirked. "Well, we have some jade pieces still, but we also have rubies of various sizes if you'll accept those."

Norath chuckled heartily. "Yeah, rubies will do fine, but we'll talk 'bout the price when I talk to the person who needs my services. When are ya plannin' on leavin'?"

Morjin looked up curiously, the same question evidently on his mind. Kale smiled. "As soon as possible, I suppose. How about at noon today?"

Morjin smiled. "Aye, I'll be ready by then."

Norath grinned at both of them in turn, extending his hand to both men. "I'll have me things ready by then, all saddled up on my horse. What town we going to?"

Kale looked nonchalant. "Mishaka."

Norath laughed loudly. "That pisshole? Must be somethin' damn impressive happenin', eh?" He got up, shaking his head as he chuckled, walking out of the tavern.

Morjin looked thoughtfully at Kale. "This might be interesting. Two blacksmiths can get things done more quickly, but as they say, too many cooks can spoil the soup. I hope he's the agreeable sort."

Kale checked which horses were for sale very carefully, finally settling on a mottled grey stallion. The horse salesman grinned as Kale dropped the requisite jade pieces into his hand, waving goodbye as Kale rode around somewhat unsteadily.

Morjin chuckled as he walked out of the tavern, seeing Kale concentrating on not falling off. "Has it been so long since you've ridden a horse?"

Kale smiled ruefully at Morjin. "Yeah, you could say that."

With a quiet thanks at whatever powers that be might be listening that the horse was being the quiet sort, Kale rode out of town a little after noon, with Norath and Morjin on their horses as well. Kale lost himself in thought, after hearing Morjin's quiet, self-assured voice speaking with Norath's loud and self-assured voice discussing their trade. Kale smirked, as the two men were trying to casually see what the other one knew about their beloved trade.

On horseback, the return trip took much less time, arriving in Mishaka two days later. They came to a halt at the main gate of the town, seeing five men in plain clothes guarding the gate. "Halt, and state your intentions!"

Kale smirked. Aya certainly had them trained well. "I'm Kale, and these two men are Morjin and Norath, here to speak to Aya about weapon and armorsmithing."

The man who spoke narrowed his eyebrows. "How do you know our teacher's name?"

Kale couldn't hold in his laughter, Morjin joining him by chuckling quietly. Kale answered once he stopped laughing. "She's my fiancee, man. Just open the gate, will you?"

The man who spoke didn't budge. He turned to the man next to him, and spoke in a quiet voice that Kale's ears weren't meant to hear, but did anyway. "Go find Teacher, and tell her of who is here to see her. Be swift."

Kale smirked, shaking his head. Yes, she certainly had them well-trained. Soon enough, she walked through the gate in her full armor, the man sent to fetch her standing at her side. Her face lit up with a smile, shaking her head slightly as she saw Kale. "You're early, you know."

Kale grinned back at her. "Yeah, it was a pretty uneventful trip."

Aya quietly rapped out orders to the men, who lined the sides of the entrance in single file, standing ramrod straight as the three men rode slowly by them.

As Kale, Morjin, and Norath rode into town, they were surprised to see the men as they trained. They were training with wooden weapons, halting and saluting by pressing their wooden weapons to their sides and bowing slowly as the men went by, before returning to their sparring.

Between the soldiers training and doing their exercises, they saw the townspeople going about their business as usual, as if nothing was happening. Indeed, they were laughing, and looking calm and happy. Even the mayor of the town looked quite relaxed. Kale guessed it was because they had a squadron of soldiers here training diligently. For them, the barbarian threat was over with, which gave the mayor a nearly serene smile as he watched the townspeople go about their business, and greet the three men cheerily. Kale returned the gesture with a grin, the other two men looking around in wonder.

The three men dismounted in the center of town, looking around in wonder at the quiet precision evinced by the men training. They heard no commanding officers yelling orders at them. They even saw a group of them slowly performing martial arts movements with their eyes closed. To the surprise of the three men, four of the soldiers appeared, bowing respectfully to them. "We are here to escort the two honored blacksmiths to their shop. Please, let us have the honor of carrying your bags."

Norath and Morjin looked at each other, surprised, before handing their bags to the men. Two men carried the two blacksmith's traveling bags to the inn, and the other two carried their workbags to the blacksmith's shop, being cleaned spotlessly by a few more soldiers in plain clothes, who bowed respectfully to the blacksmiths as they entered.

Aya walked in a few moments later, smiling at the two men. Norath was just looking with his mouth hanging open in shock, Morjin being quicker on his feet. "I admit to being surprised, Aya. This is not the way normal soldiers act."

Aya smiled a bit more widely. "That's because I'm not training them to be normal soldiers. I am training them to be Alon-Ti."

Morjin's eyebrows skyrocketed upwards, as Norath looked somewhat confused. "My word, Aya! I thought the Tiger Warriors died out long ago. 'Honored Servants of the Blade,' indeed."

She just smiled gently. "Fetch a student if you need anything, they have been instructed to tend whatever need you have of them. When you gentlemen are ready to haggle over price and work, let me know. I'll be training them in the meantime."

Morjin looked at Norath, who nodded. Morjin turned to look at Aya, smiling. "We are ready now, if you have the time."

She smiled at both of them. "Very well. Let me get my students onto their next exercises, and I'll return shortly."

Aya strode out of the building with long strides. Kale watched her go to each group of her students, rotating some of them to other parts of the town, and instructing others to begin other exercises. She returned after a quarter of an hour, smiling with satisfaction. "There we are. Alright gentlemen, shall we begin?"

Kale listened with half an ear as she spoke with both Norath and Morjin about what she needed in terms of weapons and armor with precise detail, feeling bored after half an hour of their intense discussion. He politely excused himself, Aya looking at him with an amused smile as he left, giving him a subtle wink as he walked out before returning her attention to the two men.

Kale decided to walk around the town, looking at the different groups of trainees. Some were training as a group with wooden swords, switching sparring partners smoothly every couple strikes. Others were going through slow martial arts maneuvers, holding some stances for several minutes before slowly moving again. He shook his head wonderingly. These were the yelling and screaming barbarians from only a week ago?

As he was looking around, he saw a tall man with a large scar over one eye rendering it permanently closed, dressed in furs standing by one of the gates. When this registered in his mind and he looked back, the man was gone. Kale looked around, using all his senses, but found nothing amiss. He shook his head, wondering if he were imagining things.

A quarter of an hour later, Aya emerged from the blacksmith's building, saying a single word. "Attention!"

All trainees immediately stopped what they were doing, and swiftly formed into a tight formation ten feet in front of her. Once all of them had assembled, she spoke again without raising her voice. "Walk in two at a time to be fitted for your weapons and armor. Once you are finished being fitted, return to your previous training."

She walked back inside, followed by the first two. This continued without interruption until all of them had been fitted and had returned to their previous training. Kale smiled, shaking his head wonderingly, as he heard none of them complain, none of them slow down, and none of them slacking off, even as the sun began to set.

Half an hour later, she emerged from the blacksmith's hut once more. "Halt and assemble!"

Again, all of them swiftly and without words assembled in perfect ranks in front of her. Once the last few were in position, she nodded to them. "You may go have your evening meal. After you finish, meditate for one hour on the nature of harmony."

As one, they made a fist with their right hands, covering it with their left hands, shouting "Hai!" and bowing, before walking to the tavern to be served their meals. Kale walked into the shop to see Aya, Morjin, and Norath discussing sword and armor designs on parchment. He noticed Aya no longer had her armor on.

Aya noticed him walk in, and excused herself to the two men. She walked up to Kale with a smile on her face, and a twinkle in her eye. "So, not a bad bunch, hmm?"

Kale shook his head and chuckled. "I admit to being amazed. I still have trouble believing those were the wild barbarians from a week ago."

She chuckled softly, before holding his face between her hands and kissing him softly. "Come on, Mr. I'll-Only-Get-One-Blacksmith, let's go get dinner."

Kale grinned in return, putting his arm around her waist. She looked up at him with an amused grin as they walked slowly. "So, anything interesting happen on your trip?"

He scratched the back of his head thoughtfully as they walked. "Well..."


	46. Blades and Purposes Forged

Despite helping out as much as he could with training the soldiers, helping the soldiers fix up the town, and other menial tasks, Kale was beginning to get bored. Aya had noticed, and had tried asking for his help with various things, but they both knew that it was merely a nice bonus if he helped, and nothing necessary.

Consequently, a few days after Morjin and Norath had arrived and settled themselves into being blacksmiths for the soldiers, Kale had begun going for long walks around Mishaka, with the reasoning that someone had to make sure nobody was lurking around the town that shouldn't be. The smile with which Aya had looked at him told him she had seen right through his ruse, but agreed anyway, giving him her blessing.

That morning, after he and Aya had awoken, he kissed her tenderly goodbye after they had eaten an early breakfast, going their separate ways. She began diligently training the soldiers as she normally did when the sun rose, with Kale wandering out of the wallgate.

He waved at the trainees out for their morning sprint around the town's perimeter, the trainees nodding to him as they passed. Kale smirked, thinking that at least they knew who he was.

By the time the sun had reached its zenith at noon, Kale had wandered for a fifteen mile radius around the town, noting all the hills, dales, and groves of trees around the town. There was once when he could have sworn he saw the orange and black striped tail once more, but he wasn't entirely sure. If it was that same tiger, it was being a very canny tiger; there weren't many animals that could evade his notice. He decided to explore all the places a tiger could conceivably hide in the lands surrounding Mishaka, but never once spotted or even glimpsed the tiger again.

However, a single large pawprint between two hills seemed to confirm his suspicions, though given the soil, there should have been more than that one print. Kale checked carefully, but found no fur, no whiskers, nothing except for that single pawprint. Kale narrowed his eyes as he smelled the pawprint, confirming that it was indeed made by a tiger, a large male, unless he missed his guess. It seemed strange, but it was almost as if the tiger had left that pawprint deliberately. Canny animal, Kale thought.

After a while of fruitlessly searching for further signs, he decided to return to Mishaka. The soldiers at the gate saluted him as he walked through, in the same strange salute he had seen them do before. It reminded Kale much more of a martial artists' bow of respect than a soldier's salute, which made him think more. Who exactly were the Anos-Ti? He had forgotten to ask Aya this morning, but now he became more curious. Perhaps Morjin might know, he thought.

He decided to walk to the blacksmith's building, hearing Norath's gruff and loud voice intermixed with Morjin's more calm voice.

"'Ow can ye jes' sit there, workin' tha metal with yer bare hands? It annoys me ta no end!"

"Hmm? Well, since there's only enough room at the forge for one, I thought it more efficient to work this way."

"Ah don't mind tellin' tha, Ah've been a blacksmith fer o'er three hun'red years now, and Ah've ne'er seen anythin' like that. 'Ow can ye do that?"

Kale heard the hiss of steam as he walked in, seeing Norath giving a newly-forged sword a casual and expert toss into a trough of water, the metal cooling rapidly. He looked at the table, seeing Morjin sitting back with his feet up, gently moving his hands over a rough shape of a sword. Kale blinked, as he saw that each time Morjin moved his hand up the blade, the sword's shape became a bit more refined. He entered in time to see Morjin turn his attention back to Norath, his back to Kale and the entrance to the building.

"I'm simply glad my skills haven't left me, Norath. My love of crafting never really left me; I admit that I've missed it. In recent times, I've learned how to commune with the metal itself, coaxing it into the shape I wish it to have."

Kale saw Norath shake his head and mutter something beneath his breath, which made Morjin smile as he began fitting the blade with a handle and hilt. "Come now, Norath. We finish our work at the same rate, and with the same results. You are easily a blacksmith my equal."

Norath turned around before smelting another piece of steel, about to shoot a retort to Morjin, but smiled as he saw Kale walking in. "Now then, Kale. 'Ow is ya?"

Kale shrugged. "Bored, to be honest. I've patrolled around the town, but found little of interest. There seems to be a tiger around here, but I haven't seen much more than a glimpse of a tail once, and a pawprint another time."

Morjin looked thoughtful, but said nothing as he finished strapping the handle of the sword with quick, expert movements, and gently set the finished sword on the rack behind him with the others. Kale's eyebrows rose, as he saw that between the two blacksmiths, they had finished ten swords already, each katana looking as keen as a midwinter blizzard.

Kale spoke up again as he saw the swords. "Hey, why are all of the swords katanas?"

Norath spoke up before Morjin could, which caused Morjin to smile gently. "T'lady specified 'em this way, lad. She was specific about it, wantin' each one fit fer a general. She also wanted wakizashis fer a matched set, along wit' t'armor."

Morjin picked up a few sheafs of paper, his eyebrows narrowing in thought as he looked through them again. "She was quite specific about the armor as well, wanting them to be equally well-made. Hmm...Norath? I should have asked this of you before, but do you know how to construct firewands?"

Norath almost dropped the lump of metal he was about to toss into the forge, as he turned around and looked at Morjin with a look of suspicious shock. "Wot the 'ell do ye want to make them damnable things fer, eh?"

Morjin continued reading the sheafs of paper as he began almost absentmindedly working on another piece of metal with his hands as he read. "Well, Aya wanted top-quality bows as well, but for the purpose she has in mind, perhaps firewands might serve the purpose better. I know how to construct them, but getting the refined firedust powder for them is much more difficult."

Norath shot a glance of nearly tangible irritation at Morjin as he began smelting and folding the glowing lump of metal. "Oh, so it's so easy, is it?"

Morjin shrugged as he continued reading over the papers. Kale looked closer, and saw that they were notes written in Aya's handwriting, with detailed sketches of the armor, the short and long swords, and notes for all three, along with notes in Morjin's spidery handwriting. "Making a good firewand isn't as difficult as you might think, Norath; I'd be quite willing to show you how to make one. The powder has me worried, however."

Norath looked thoughtful. "Aye, ye migh' 'ave ta get some from t'Southlands, if'n they feels like sellin' ye some at all."

Morjin pursed his lips as he continued reading, the metal in his hands beginning to take the shape of a sword. "I know how to make the powder as well, but..."

He was interrupted by Norath's burst of shock. " _WHAT?_ "

Morjin continued as if he hadn't been interrupted. "...But I'm not all that good at it; the times I've tried, I always lose at least half a batch in an explosion."

Norath glared at Morjin. "Ye ain't creatin' that damnable stuff in 'ere, ah can tell ye tha' righ' now!"

Morjin shook his head. "No, no, of course not, wouldn't think of it."

Norath muttered to himself as he folded the metal. Kale suspected that he was hitting the metal a bit more savagely than necessary, though Morjin was smiling slightly, before turning to Kale. "Sorry for ignoring you like that, Kale. I just lost myself in thought a bit."

Kale chuckled at the conversation that had just taken place. "No, that's alright. Why did you think firewands might work better? And while we're on the subject, what is a firewand, anyway?"

Morjin chuckled to himself, turning to face Kale as his hands continued working the metal almost absentmindedly. "Since you asked - a firewand was developed during the First Age as a stronger projectile weapon than a bow. A bow still has longer range; the people developing firewands never found a way to counter that, but firewands tend to be deadlier. I was thinking that firewands might be better, if we found an excess of ammunition for them. This is because the projectiles they fire explode on impact, which might be better against the undead Aya's planning on marching on."

Kale nodded thoughtfully. "Is there any way you can think of to have them prepared for all the members of Aya's little army?"

Morjin looked thoughtful again. "Perhaps. Making simple, servicable firewands isn't too difficult; between Norath and I, we can create enough for all the soldiers. The ammunition for them will be trickier, unfortunately. I suppose I could set up a small laboratory outside of town to attempt creating some, once Norath and I are done with the rest."

Norath shot a glance over his shoulder. "Aye, make that damnable stuff ou'side of town. Good idea, eh!"

Morjin chuckled quietly. "Of course, Norath. I wouldn't dare even think of endangering anyone."

He turned his attention to Kale once more. "Would you mind fetching Aya, and bringing her here to get her opinion on the quality of the swords Norath and I have finished so far? I'd like to have her opinion before we go any further."

Kale nodded, smirking at the renewed grumbling from Norath as he walked out. He looked around the town carefully, finally spotting Aya going over sword training with a large group of trainees. She slowly went over a series of sword movements, sheathing her sword when finished. The trainees followed with their carved wooden replicas carefully, mimicking her movements, down to placing their wooden swords at their sides.

Aya saw Kale approaching, and gave him a quick smile before turning her attention rapidly back to her students. "Practice this, clearing your mind of all thoughts. Become one with the blade as you move, emptying yourself of all fears and desires, leaving nothing but you and the movements of your blade."

The trainees saluted her in the same strange style, and began again. Nodding in satisfaction, she walked to Kale with a warm smile on her face, greeting him with a soft kiss. "Hey there, stranger."

Kale smiled back at her before kissing her back. "Hey, gorgeous."

She grinned at him as her arms snaked around his neck. "Is this a personal visit?"

He wrapped his arms around her waist as he replied. "Partially. Morjin wanted to speak with you about a few things, but it wasn't urgent."

Aya kissed him again tenderly. "I'm sorry you and I haven't been able to spend more time together; I know you're getting restless, my beloved. I wish...one second."

She pulled away and turned around, facing her students once more. "I didn't give you the order to slow down or stop. You will continue that exercise until I say otherwise, is that clear?"

All of them stiffened before saluting her as one, with a loud "Hai!" before returning to the movements. She watched them for a few more moments before turning back to Kale. "Sorry about that. They're not quite as disciplined as I'd like yet."

Kale chuckled quietly, a teasing note entering his voice. "You've always enjoyed bossing people around."

Aya gave him an amused look, snaking her arms around his neck once more. "Jealous?"

Kale smirked at her. "Nah. I know where your ticklish spots are for when you get too bossy."

Aya giggled quietly. "Come on, Mr. Self-Confidence. Let's go see what Morjin wanted."

They walked together to the blacksmith's hut, to overhear another argument between Morjin and Norath. Kale began to get the feeling the two men respected one another, but argued with one another to make the time pass more quickly. Kale admitted to himself he might do the same thing.

"Ah don' believe it! I'll bet ye a tankard o' Mishaka's best ale that ya can't do it!"

"Do what?" Aya looked curiously between the two men. Both stopped and greeted her simply, Morjin giving an amused reply.

"Oh, Norath here doesn't believe that I can make firewand ammunition. He's partially right..."

Norath interrupted him. "Hah, I knew ya couldn't do it!"

Morjin shot him an amused look, continuing as if he hadn't been interrupted. "...In that I don't know how to make the more powerful First Age firewand ammunition, but I do know how to make the more basic single shot variety."

Norath snorted. "Sin'le shot, hah! What use is a sin'le shot anythin' if'n ya hafta spend more'n a couple seconds reloadin', that's what I'd like ta know!"

Morjin shrugged. "The benefits outweigh the problems, I think."

Aya looked at the two men, amused. "I take it you're thinking of making firewands for my students?"

Norath shot her a look. "Ignore him, lass. He's outta his damn mind. He'd blow up half tha town tryin' to make that fool powder. He so much as admitted he couldn't do it!"

Morjin chuckled quietly. "I admit, I'd need some space to work on the formula, and I certainly wouldn't do it in town. I'd rather not place anyone else's life in danger, as the procedure can be...precarious."

Norath couldn't resist adding his own opinion. "Hah! Why don't ya jus' set up yer fool lab by the undead, and blow them all to their rest that way?"

Aya couldn't help but laugh at this. "Sorry to interrupt you two, but I must ask - Morjin, you know how to create firewands?"

Morjin nodded as he finished strapping the handle of a sword, placing it on the rack by the others. "It's not too difficult; between Norath and I, we can easily make enough for all your students. However, as I said, I'd need time to create the ammunition for them."

Aya looked back and forth between the two men. "Hmm...firewands would be better against the undead, but as you say, the problem would be ammunition. Morjin, if you can make enough ammunition to have a decent store, then I'd be happy to train my students in their use as well. However, please have the bows and arrows finished first."

Morjin nodded. "That sounds prudent. Very well."

Norath couldn't resist. "Aye, blow yerself up _after_ we're done with what we're supposed ta be doin'!"

Morjin smiled at him, amused. "I humbly accept your bet, Norath."

Norath turned back to his forge, beating and folding another piece of metal with a bit more force than necessary. "Damn cocky Solars," he muttered to himself.

Morjin chuckled to himself, before remembering why he had asked for Aya in the first place. "Before we get too far off track; Aya, please check these swords we've made so far, and see if they're to your satisfaction."

Aya picked one of them up, eyeing it critically. She walked to an empty space, and swung it experimentally, balanced it, and even eyed the curve of the blade carefully with one eye shut before nodding. "Very nicely done."

She walked back to the sword rack, and checked a few others with an equally critical eye, nodding in satisfaction as she finished. "Very nice work, gentlemen. I'm not sure which one of you made which blades, but all of them are equally well-made."

Norath turned to Morjin with a loud "Hah!" before turning back to folding the piece of molten steel. Morjin chuckled before replying. "As I said, Norath - you are easily a blacksmith my equal, and probably better. I am honored to simply equal your work."

Norath muttered to himself under his breath once more. Kale brightened as he suddenly remembered what he wanted to ask. "Hey, what's so special about the Anos-Ti, anyway?"

Aya and Morjin shared an amused look before she replied. "During the First Age, the Anos-Ti were Melek's elite mortal troops. They were said to be so well-trained, they could be the equal of even Dragon-Blooded troops. Of course, this might be an exaggeration, but they will be true focused warriors in mind and action when they are finished with their training."

Morjin smiled as he spoke up. "During Melek's time, entire villages were trained through the generations in the way of the Anos-Ti. Anyone who sought to subjugate the village through force quickly learned that none of the people living there were to be taken lightly. The Way of the Anos-Ti is as much a philosophy as it is a way of the warrior. Some villagers never learned more than the basics of the art, due to simple lack of focus, but none of them were remiss in learning the way of the blade."

Aya nodded her thanks at Morjin, a smile playing around the corners of her lips. "You've done some research on your own, I see."

Morjin smiled, and nodded once as his hands sculpted another blade. "I learn what I can."

Aya smiled at both of them, thanking both men gracefully for their efforts before turning to leave. Morjin's voice stopped her. "Aya? Kale? Before I forget, there was someone who wished to meet with the two of you."

Aya and Kale turned around, looking askance at him. Morjin turned to the back of the blacksmith's building, with a slight smile on his face. "Winterstripe?"

Kale's eyebrows rose as he saw who it was.


	47. Two Meetings Make for an Unusual Day

Kale had seen this man once before, a week ago, standing by the wallgate before disappearing like an elusive thought. He was a tall, slender man, with very long and shaggy black hair. A large scar over his right eye rendered it permanently closed, giving him a permanent glowering expression. His clothes were all made of the furs of elk and mink.

He stepped with lithe movements from the back of the blacksmiths' building, and eyed both Kale and Aya before speaking. The way he spoke was slow and deliberate, though he gave the uncomfortable impression he had thought of what he would say in response to someone long before they had even begun to speak. A rumbling undertone punctuated his voice, a sound quite reminiscent of the tiger's shape Kale had seen him assume.

"I came here after hearing an odd tale from one of my brethren." He looked at Kale and Aya both closely before resuming.

"Golgol Fangs-Through-Eye came to our gathering, speaking of how he and his barbarian followers encountered a lone woman outside the gates of Mishaka. She challenged his rule of the horde. She won with a single swift strike."

He looked at Aya's eyes, the look of a sated predator eyeing an animal he was used to preying upon. "She cut him in half, and waited for him to fall with her back to him, which is a grievous insult to my people. However, what caught my interest was that she healed his wound with the barest trace of a scar, and even helped him to his feet, saying that no lives should be lost over something so petty."

He paused, looking clinically at Aya before continuing; making Kale slightly uncomfortable. Aya, however, returned his gaze calmly. "This last made me curious, especially because she had made the intention known to train his former horde into a disciplined fighting force. I don't need to reiterate to you the common knowledge that barbarians are not commonly disciplined people, used to engaging in everything with excess."

The man gave a pointed look out the door, before looking back at both Kale and Aya this time. "What's more, is that her mate was able to spot me as I wore the skin of my totem. These two strange facts made me wish to come here, and learn more about the strange two."

He took a few steps closer, being a bare three feet away from where Kale stood next to Aya. At this distance, they could see that he was taller than either of them. He smelled of pine and the woods in the embrace of night, along with the musky undertone of a male tiger. He sniffed at them deliberately in turn before speaking once more. "What intrigues me more is that both of you smell...familiar to this old nose. Hmm."

Kale broke the silence first, his eyes narrowing slightly as he beheld this strange man. "What do you mean by our smell?"

The man turned to look at him, staring into Kale's eyes unblinkingly with his one eye for a few moments before replying. "To my people, one's smell is very reminiscent of a person, nearly always the same between lifetimes, even amongst the longer-lived Chosen. Now, when I behold the both of you with my own senses, I am reminded strongly of two people I once knew, before the darker times began."

Norath's voice was heard between bangs of his heavy mallet on molten steel. "Ah think you're talkin' a load o' rubbish, smellin' folk as ye are."

The man, Winterstripe, slowly turned his head to stare at Norath for a few moments before replying. "Do not seek to anger me, Son of Earth. The ways of my people are not the ways of your people. You would do well to remember that."

He slowly and deliberately turned his gaze back to Kale and Aya. "Though you look different, and your genders have switched, echoes of two Solars I once called friend look back at me when I see you. Do the names of Melek and Melia bring recognition to you?"

Kale and Aya's eyes both widened slightly. The man seemed very vaguely amused that both of them nodded at the same time, though Aya spoke first. "Those are the names of the Essences that Exalted my mate and I."

Kale looked amused for a moment when she mentioned the word "mate," but looked back at the taller man with a calm expression.

The man nodded a few times, looking at the walls beyond them as if in thought for a few moments. "Defeating an opponent in a duel with a single sure stroke, and healing his opponent afterward - that was Melek's way."

He pointed to a scar, slightly visible on his shoulder. "He, like you Aya, was also left-handed. He gave me this mark when I was still young and foolish."

Aya smiled slightly. "I'm ambidextrous. I've used my right arm as my sword arm for a long time, and I sought to symbolize changes within myself by switching hands."

A ghost of a smile was reflected in the man's face briefly, before he spoke again, this time looking at Kale. "I am reminded of a small, sprightly woman who braved the wrath of her own ruling Council, because she believed we Chosen of Luna were of no harm to the Chosen of Sol. After seeing the way you fight, it would seem she taught you the art I taught her in my gratitude."

Kale's eyes went a bit wide. "Wait...you're saying that you were the one that taught her Tiger Style? But...that was before the First Age even ended, before the Usurpation."

The man looked calmly back at Kale. "Chosen of Sol, I have ceased counting summers long ago. Even so, I remember. I remember a tiny woman who fought with a precise ferocity those twice her size could not match. I remember her finding me after we left, when I wished to not be found. And I remember feeling no surprise when I discovered that this woman was the mate of the man who had given me this scar."

Winterstripe looked at the both of them calmly, the expression in his one eye almost benevolent. "I came here today to find if their successors followed in their footsteps, and found that echoes of the present harken to the past with stunning clarity. The woman who determinedly learned the art of the tiger's way of fighting from me in my war form and twice her height stands before me now as a tall man. Your attention to even minor detail, and your refusal to take things at face value remind me strongly of her, young Chosen of Night."

He turned to look at Aya. "And you, Chosen of Dawn. You bear no sign of the adolescent eagerness for battle; indeed, you carry yourself and fight as though you had seen a thousand battles come and go. Scars you may have from them, but you never show an eagerness for bloodshed; indeed, you seek to avoid it when you can, and even turn an enemy into a possible friend. This was Melek's way; the way of the humble warrior, which is something I've not seen from any other Chosen of Sol."

Winterstripe smiled at both of them. "It is well that you are both Solars, and have found one another again. I found the incarnation of my Solar mate from long ago had become a Child of the Abyss. I was so angered I tore her asunder, with the hope that she would be incarnate again as a Child of Sol."

Aya shook her head. "She will simply be reborn to the same Deathlord as an Abyssal once more, of the same Caste. Nothing can make her be reborn as a Solar once more except her willingness to do so, and quite a bit of patient and caring help." She gave a brief, but meaningful look at Kale, who smiled softly at her.

The man raised his eyebrows. "This is...unfortunate to hear. How do you have command of such knowledge?"

Aya looked at the ground. "Until a little over a year ago, I was an Abyssal."

Winterstripe's shaggy eyebrows raised a little further, looking at both Kale and Aya meaningfully before speaking. "I see. This will be distasteful news to share with my brethren, but it is necessary for them to know."

He looked pensive for a moment, as if reliving the past. Perhaps he was.

Winterstripe looked at both of them in turn for a few moments before continuing. "I am pleased that the present echoes the past. I wish you both well."

He turned, and began to walk with soundless predatory grace toward the exit. Kale and Aya were both too slightly stunned to speak, seeing a figure that both their Essences had remarked upon in passing come to life before their eyes. Morjin hailed Winterstripe before he left, however. "Winterstripe? I would seek your counsel before you abscond."

Winterstripe stopped, still facing the door. He turned his head slightly enough to cock an ear toward Morjin. "Hmm?"

Morjin finished strapping the handle of a katana, setting it on the stand with the others before standing, and walking with the tall, wild man out of the building, and into the evening air.

Kale and Aya looked at one another with understanding, the same feelings going through them. Kale voiced his thoughts first, shaking his head in wonder. "Wow. We've spoken to our Essences, who told us some of their experiences in the First Age. To meet one who is still alive now who has seen such things with his own eyes..."

Aya nodded her head, her hand crossing the distance between them to gently touch his arm. Kale snapped out of his reverie to hear Norath speak over the loud clanging that punctuated the folding of another blade, shaking his head slightly as he did so. "Ah've seen near on four hunner'd years come an' go. Ah was taught that them wit' t'Blood o' Dragons in their veins were eldest, oldest, and wisest."

He paused, looking with a slight grin at both of them. "But Ah admit, ye Anathema scare me sometimes, wit' yer long lives an' longer memories. Ah likes that Morjin, but 'is 'umility for bein' what he is confuses me. Did ye knaw t'at 'e's only a hunnerd years shy o' bein' as old as me?"

Both Kale and Aya looked at Norath, surprised. Aya spoke, somewhat incredulous. "Do you mean to tell me he's over three hundred years old? However did he escape the Wyld Hunt, I wonder?"

Norath shrugged, levelling a few masterful strikes of his hammer, the still-glowing steel of the blade beginning to take shape under his talented hands. "Ah don' rightly ken. T'en again, Ah heard them Twilights is the most arrogant of the lot o' ye, and 'e's t'most 'umble man Ah ever met."

Kale shook his head as he thought, Aya looking bemused at the door Morjin and Winterstripe had left. A soldier spoke from the doorway, bowing with the strange salute of the Alon-Ti Kale was getting used to seeing. "Sensei, Eight Immaculate soldiers stand at the gates, wishing to speak with you. All are armed and armored."

Aya's eyes hardened slightly at the news. "I will be right there. Kolth, please show them to a table in the tavern, and tell them I will attend presently."

The soldier saluted once more, and walked out of the blacksmith's building. Aya looked at Kale with a wan smile on her face. "Well, now we get to see if this bodes well or ill, no?"

Kale smirked, already beginning to fade from notice. "I'll be watching your back, love."

Aya grinned at the space she knew he still occupied. "Just make sure it's my back this time, and not my behind."

She was rewarded with his quiet chuckle as she walked out, with his quiet voice behind her. "Someone has to watch. Besides, I hate watching you go, but I love watching you walk away."

Aya shook her head with a grin, before her face relaxed into calm certainty, preparing to meet the unknown Immaculate representatives. She hoped they came with peaceful intentions.

She walked with long, marching strides into the tavern, spotting the armored group immediately, standing out in the sparse clientele like jade beacons. Walking over to their table, she came to a purposeful halt by their table. "I am Aya. I'm told you wished to see me?"

Aya immediately hid the recognition she felt, as she saw the female soldier who spoke first. It was the same one who had interrogated them outside of Ayodha a few months ago. The soldier stood gracefully, bowing slightly to Aya before speaking in a cultured, though purposeful voice. "Greetings to you, Aya. Please, have a seat, that we might speak of business."

Aya seated herself at the head of the table, looking curiously at this soldier, who regarded her with cool certainty. She couldn't help but feel that there was something...unusual about this woman, though she couldn't quite discern what it was. The woman continued after seeing Aya had made herself comfortable. "My name is Captain Ophelia Artana, and my tour of duty to the Immaculate Legions has just run out, giving me an honorable discharge. These men here are my honor guard, instructed to aid and attend me until I finally relinquish my armor and weapons, living a quiet life. However, I have no interest in such things just yet."

She removed her helmet, revealing long auburn tresses braided into a knot at the back of her head. She took a small sip of her drink before continuing, looking at Aya with a calm certainty in her brown eyes. "I heard that there was an army being trained with the purpose of striking at the undead, something which the Immaculate host seems reluctant to do for political and bureaucratic reasons. Is this true?"

Aya had maintained eye contact with her the entire time, now nodding once in agreement before speaking. "Aye, it is. I am training men to retake Thorns."

Ophelia almost choked on her drink, but quickly regained her composure. "I see. Would you be interested in a few more blades for your cause?"

Aya raised a single black eyebrow. "Would this conflict with your duties as Immaculate soldiers?"

Ophelia regarded her curiously before continuing. "As I said, my tour of duty is over; my days of being an Immaculate soldier are over with. I know what your purpose is, and I know what you are, and I still wish to pledge my spear to your cause."

Aya nodded to herself before answering. "You would be working with, fighting alongside, and fighting under the command of someone you consider to be Anathema. Are you sure this wouldn't be a problem?"

She noticed with well-hidden amusement that the soldiers with the woman speaking seemed to stiffen slightly in their seats, though the woman simply looked at her curiously. "May I speak to you alone, Aya?"

Aya returned her curious look for a moment before nodding. "Very well."

The two women walked out of the tavern, and walked for a few minutes before they came to a secluded area of the small town, Ophelia coming to a halt, and facing the taller woman. Aya regarded her curiously, waiting for her to speak. She was surprised when a small golden dot amidst a surrounding golden circle appeared on the woman's forehead quickly, before fading as if it had never been. The woman looked at Aya with a small smile. "If you are of the Sun as well, then I have no problem with following you."

Aya smiled slightly as she looked calmly back at the woman, her own Caste Mark of a golden sun surrounded with twelve spokes appearing quickly, before fading as well. "You are of the Eclipse, I see. Pardon my wonder, but I did not expect to find a Solar, let alone a Solar negotiator amongst the Immaculate ranks."

The woman looked downcast for a moment, before looking back into Aya's eyes with cold certainty. "I lost much that I held dear when I Exalted as Chosen of the Sun. My family, my place in my house, my very name was lost to me. I was cast out, publically proclaimed as dying in my sleep by the actions of a cruel unnamed assassin. I joined the Immaculate army, not knowing how else to live; not even seeing other Children of the Sun until very recently."

Ophelia took a few paces forward, staring into the sunset for a few moments before continuing in a softer voice. "All my life, I was taught that Anathema were driven mad by their Exaltation, becoming a blight that must be scoured for the good of the Realm. Seeing that I retained my sanity and grip on reality after being chosen clashed very sharply with what I was taught; keeping it a secret and hiding in the army the best solution I knew."

She turned and looked at Aya again. "Seeing you, the man you love, and a few others who Exalted as Chosen of the Sun retain their own sanity, becoming or behaving nothing like what I had taught confused me at first, but I can no longer pretend at being what I am not. I no longer wish to see my Exaltation as a terrible mark to hide."

Aya nodded with a smile, having experienced quite a few of the woman's experiences herself, though in a slightly different fashion. She nodded after gazing calmly into the woman's eyes, and seeing no falsehood, no ulterior motives there. "Very well. What of your consort?"

Ophelia gave her a half smile. "I will tell them that their services and protection is no longer required, and send them back to the nearest base to be reassigned."

Aya smiled back at her. "Then I welcome you, Ophelia of the Eclipse Caste, to our cause. However, before you accept, know that this is a temporary operation - when our work is finished with Thorns, I hope for everyone to go their peaceful ways. Not as a parting of ways once the job is done, but as dissolution of the cause."

Ophelia nodded. "So you aren't planning on attacking anyplace else? You're simply going to disband your army once you finish, and go your own way?"

Aya nodded once. "Exactly."

Ophelia's eyebrows narrowed slightly, suspicious. "And what's in it for you, if I may be so bold as to ask?"

The look in Aya's eyes was a distant, almost sad one. "Righting a wrong, then living in peace."

Ophelia looked closely at Aya for a few moments, before finally nodding to herself slowly, her lips pursed in thought. "I see. Very well, I accept."

That night, after the soldiers had finished their evening exercises and all the tasks for securing the town properly had completed, Aya flopped onto her bed in the inn above, rubbing her eyes. "What an unusual day," she said softly to herself as she stared at the ceiling.

Kale slipped into bed beside her, both of them nearly unconsciously closing the distance between each other to offer one another comfort. He spoke in a thoughtful voice. "No kidding. Explains why that tiger I saw was so damnably clever, though."

Aya chuckled tiredly, already slipping into the arms of sleep.


	48. The Subtle Art of Living

At first, Kale couldn't figure out what had awakened him. The sun hadn't risen yet, and at first listen, things seemed quiet. Aya was sleeping half atop him, her head on his shoulder, with her arm around him. Smiling, he wrapped an arm around her and kissed her softly. She replied in her sleep by making a small noise and snuggling closer to him.

Kale closed his eyes once more, a blissful smile on his face.

A few minutes passed, and he drowsily began feeling that all was right with the world. Then the noise came again, the same one that had awakened him. A sharp crack followed barely a second later by an echoing _boom_.

He sat bolt upright, pulling Aya with him. Her eyes fluttered and opened swiftly, looking into his eyes with concern. With no words spoken or necessary, they both jumped out of bed and swiftly dressed, running out of the inn and toward where the noise had come from. They heard the twin noises again as they ran, coming from outside of town, out of the East wallgate. They both began running faster, adrenaline pumping through both their systems as they expected the worst. Aya's armor materialized around her out of the mist of the pre-morning, her sword, the Crissaegrim, appearing below her short sword on her right side. Kale had on both of his claws; both the golden-colored orichalcum one on his left fist, and the Silver Horn in the form of a vicious tiger claw on his right.

When they got to where the noises had come from, they both slowed to a quiet walk, not seeing anything around them at first. Soon however, they saw ten bales of hay lined up in a row, the ones at the ends burning merrily.

Surprisingly, they heard Morjin's voice. "Aim for one of the two at the center this time."

Then, more surprisingly, they heard Ophelia's calm voice. "Alright."

A few seconds' pause, and the twin noises were heard again; though this time, they were able to see the cause. Through the bushes, they saw Ophelia draw a strange object rapidly from her side, and aim it at one of the bales of hay. A sharp crack was heard as a gout of flame left the strange object, a smaller bolt of orange and yellow fire speeding rapidly toward one of the bales of hay. It struck with a shuddering _boom_ , setting the bale of hay ablaze with shocking speed.

Kale and Aya looked at each other, wide-eyed, before walking around behind the trees to see Morjin and Ophelia. Morjin was now laughing as he saw the bale of hay. "Oh, excellent shot. You say you've learned to substitute your own essence for the firedust ammunition?"

Ophelia had a slightly smug look on her face as she cleaned the weapon and sheathed it at her side once more. "Correct. It doesn't quite replace the need for firedust, but does come in quite handy when I have none."

Kale and Aya chose this moment, by silent agreement, to greet the two. Ophelia was standing sideways from the position of the bales of hay, and looking at one of them intently. She took a deep breath, held it, yanked out the firewand and fired with one smooth, deft motion.

Morjin noticed the two new arrivals first, as Ophelia was still looking intently at the bales of hay. His bushy greying eyebrows rose as he saw them, and then gave an apologetic smile. "I do apologize to both of you; I didn't know the firewand would be so loud as to wake the both of you two up."

Ophelia looked at Morjin, surprised, and then looked to the approaching Kale and Aya, and looked chagrined. "Nonesense, Morjin. I pulled the trigger, not you. I awoke quite early this morning, and couldn't go back to sleep. I decided to practice my aim and form, and Morjin here approached me after I fired the first shot."

Aya smiled gently at both of them, as her armor dissipated like smoke in the morning air. "I admit it did give me cause for concern. I thought the town was under attack."

Kale was nonchalantly putting his claws back into their cases, deep within his jacket pockets.

Morjin looked at Ophelia curiously. "I admit, I've never seen such a finely-made firewand. May I take a look?"

Ophelia looked at him for a moment, before nodding and handing over the weapon. Kale and Aya approached as well, asking Ophelia's consent to look at the wondrous weapon. As he was waiting his turn to view the weapon, Kale looked at Ophelia, shifting her weight slightly from foot to foot as she stood. He guessed that she felt a little...empty without the weapon in her possession. He could certainly understand that.

Morjin and Aya looked closely at the weapon. It was made of bright, cleanly tempered steel, folded in much the same way a sword was made. It was heavily trimmed and intermixed with orichalcum; some for ornamentation, mostly for the prominent parts of the firewand. Both Morjin and Aya were surprised to see a stylized dragon motif around the barrel of the firewand, ending with the dragon's mouth at the barrel's end. Both were more surprised to see five chambers for firedust ammunition, rather than the usual single-shot chamber of most firewands.

Morjin's eyebrows were raised in admiration of the weapon as he and Aya carefully looked it over. He looked up to see Ophelia, and asked, "What a magnificent weapon. Is it of First-Age design?"

Ophelia nodded, looking a little downcast. "Yes."

Morjin nodded absent-mindedly as he continued riveting his attention on the firewand. "I noticed that the chamber is smaller than a normal firewand's would be. It uses a particular kind of specialized ammunition, does it not?"

Kale noticed that Ophelia smiled a little before replying. Perhaps she was glad of changing the subject away from how she had acquired the weapon, which made Kale wonder. "Yes. This particular kind is called a plasma repeater; it doesn't have quite the punch of a normal firewand, but it fires more quickly, and has longer range."

Kale had to hide a smile as Morjin and Aya were still avidly looking over the weapon, Morjin speaking up once more without taking his eyes off the firewand. "However did you get such a magnificent weapon, Ophelia?"

Ophelia looked a little more downcast, the look in her eyes distant as she replied. "The night my mother kicked me out for becoming Anathema and pronouncing me dead, I...took it from her personal armory. To my knowledge, it was the only one she had."

Morjin nodded absentmindedly for a few moments before wrenching his attention away from the weapon and looking at her sharply. He studied her for a short time, his eyebrows narrowing. He asked his question in a rather off-hand way. "I know that only the Houses of the Immaculate Order would possibly have such weapons in their possession. Which House are you from, Ophelia?"

Ophelia began to look a bit more uncomfortable. "I'd really rather not say. I'm no longer of that House, so it matters little now."

Morjin looked at her for a few more moments with eyebrows narrowed in thought. Aya finished her close inspection of the weapon, handing it to Morjin, who handed it back to Ophelia, who accepted it gratefully. Morjin continued looking at her thoughtfully before speaking once more. "Ophelia, I'd like to speak with you alone. Would you mind?"

She looked at him somewhat surprised, with more than a hint of trepidation, but nodded her agreement. The two of them walked away from the town, toward the rising hills outside the town limits.

Aya walked over to Kale, wrapping her arms around his waist and leaning her head gently against his shoulder. She grumbled as she did so, feeling Kale's arms wrapping around her, giving her comfort in his embrace. "Why do these things always happen before sunrise?"

Kale chuckled quietly as he slowly began running his fingers through her hair. "No idea, love. However, they usually foretell a very interesting day."

She nuzzled against his neck as he ran his fingers through her hair, stifling a yawn. "I suppose this means we can't go back to bed for a few hours."

Kale chuckled quietly once more, hugging her closely. "What would be the point? Sunrise is in less than an hour."

Aya sighed once more, lifting her head to look him in the eyes. "I suppose you're right. Breakfast, then?"

He nodded at her with a soft smile, earning him a soft, somewhat sleepy smile in return. She shifted her hands upward to cup his face gently, giving him a soft kiss before they walked together back to the tavern.

She looked at Kale as they walked. "You don't know how to make that wake-up tea they serve in Ayodha, do you?"

Kale shook his head, hiding a smile. "Nope, afraid not."

Aya looked downcast.

Kale smiled this time. "However, the innkeeper does."

Aya glared at him with a small smile, punching him lightly in the arm. "You're so cruel to me in the morning."

Kale deftly grabbed her wrist, spinning her around until her back was pressed against his chest, with his arms wrapped around her waist. He whispered softly into her ear before kissing her neck. "Come on now, I'm not that cruel."

She smiled as she spun around to face him, her arms around his neck, kissing him softly before replying. "Only on mornings where you didn't let me have enough sleep the night before."

Kale grinned at her as she pulled away. "I don't recall anything to complain about."

She raised an eyebrow as she removed her arms from around his neck, giving him a look of mock-severity. "Of course not - Night always comes before Dawn."

Kale glared at her, which caused her to laugh brightly and take off running toward the tavern, Kale running right behind her. They swept by Norath, who was sleepily shaving his face outside the blacksmith building. He glared at the two as they swept by, shaking his head before going back to shaving. "Damn kids have too much energy in 't'mornin'."

* * *

Ophelia and Morjin entered the tavern to have breakfast. Ophelia was looking distant, as if remembering things long-ago forgotten. Morjin looked a strange combination of grim certainty and bright realization. They saw Kale and Aya drinking tea as they finished their breakfast, having a good-natured argument as they sometimes did.

"After. Say it."

"Mm-hm. Whatever you say, Kale."

"I submit as evidence last night to support my case. Say 'after'."

"Hmm, that's not what I remember. I suppose more testing of this theory of yours is merited."

Morjin and Ophelia approached the table Kale and Aya were sitting at. Noticing the two new arrivals, they motioned for them to seat themselves. Ophelia looked at the two curiously. "What are you two arguing about?"

Kale glared at Aya, though he had a small smile on his face. Aya answered quite casually as she took a sip of her tea. "Oh, he and I were having an argument over the times of day."

Morjin raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

Aya nodded, making Kale close his eyes and shake his head. She took another sip of tea as she replied with equal casualness. "Morjin, you're a learned savant - does the night come before, or after the dawn?"

Kale sighed as he shook his head once more.

Morjin looked at the two, sensing there was something more than was being said, though answered the question anyway. "Well, according to the stages of the day, night always precedes dawn."

Aya gave Kale a superior smile. "There, you see?"

Kale glared at her with a sigh. Aya grinned at him, reaching across the table to gently stroke his cheek with her hand, and kissing him softly. "It's alright, my beloved. One cannot argue against the times of day."

Kale gave her a combination glare and determined smirk. "I'm so going to prove you wrong."

Aya's eyebrows rose as she smiled at him, taking another grateful gulp of her tea. "Well then, I look forward to further research on this theory."

Kale gave her an imperious smile. "I was hoping you would - in the name of knowledge and understanding, of course."

Aya refilled her cup, and raised it to him with a smile as a salute. "Indeed!"

Ophelia looked at the two of them, slightly confused, but said nothing. Morjin, however, was smiling slightly, shaking his head gently at them before taking a sip of his tea.

After a moment, Morjin turned to look at Ophelia. "Would you mind telling them what you told me? I can vouch for their discretion. Besides, they'd be quite willing to tell you of their pasts if you're willing to tell yours."

Ophelia looked a little downcast again. "I doubt either of you were kicked out of your home for becoming an Anathema."

Kale and Aya looked at one another before looking at her. Kale spoke up first. "No, but both of my parents were slain by a contagion spread by the same Deathlord that took Thorns."

Aya spoke up in a low voice. "I watched my father die before my eyes, slain by wraiths. My mother lost all sense of who she was, becoming nothing more than a harlot."

Ophelia looked a little wide-eyed at their admissions, finally nodding to herself. She looked around the tavern, seeing nobody in the place except for the four of them, and the cook in the back giving instructions to his assistant.

She took a deep breath, staring at the table. "All my life, I was picked on for being the youngest; the "baby." What made matters worse is that the astrologers had seen that the power of the Elemental Dragons would never awaken within me, relegating me to the status of minor diplomat, with my mother, and all my brothers and sisters outliving me. My future was about as bright as the man I would eventually be married to, to further good relations between Houses of the Realm."

Ophelia paused for a moment, taking a sip of her own tea before continuing. "When my Essence came to me in a dream the day after my twentieth birthday, and offered me the chance to bring harmony to the world, I knew instantly that this was an Anathema Essence. Its golden brightness seemed calming, quiet, and trustworthy. Perhaps it was a moment of rebellion, but I accepted. My mother knew immediately what had happened, storming into my room right after the visions of the First Age, and my Essence living within it as a prominent diplomat and negotiator faded away. She screamed at me for betraying her, betraying all that she stood for, for throwing away all that I had been given so selfishly."

Ophelia took another sip before she kept going. It was obvious from the emotions passing over her face that the wounds of this day were still a bit raw. "She turned her back to me, and said that I was dead to her, to our family, and the Realm. I was told to leave in secret that night, and tomorrow morning she would tell everyone that I had been slain by assassins."

She smiled sightly. "Of course, I snuck into the armory before I left, and saw that weapon sitting all alone on a golden pedestal. I felt drawn to it, as if it had been waiting for me. I took it with me as I left her palace. In retrospect, I shouldn't have done it, but it's saved my life a few times - but I digress."

She took another sip of her tea, looking a bit calmer now. "After that, my Essence taught me a few tricks she had learned with the firewand, which developed into learning the martial art she knew in life that used the firewand as its focus. Once she was satisfied, she wished me well, and took her rest. I wandered around after that, unsure of what to do. Not knowing what else I should do, I joined the Immaculate Order under another name. It may seem like a very dangerous decision, but at the time, the Immaculate Order was all I knew, having been inundated by its propaganda and teachings since birth. I might be in danger of discovery within the army, but it seemed to be a smaller risk than journeying alone to lands unknown."

She looked up, and gave them both a wan smile. "The rest is fairly uneventful, and the end of the tale all of you know."

Morjin looked at her gently. "Why don't you mention who your mother was, Ophelia?"

She shook her head. "It doesn't matter. The person I was is dead to her, which is how the ruler of a House would prefer to view such an embarassment."

Aya's eyebrows shot upwards in recognition, but Kale still looked confused. Aya saw the way Kale looked, and asked a question. "Ophelia, how long ago were you Exalted, and what Immaculate House is she the head of?"

Ophelia shrugged. "I Exalted a Child of the Sun about four and a half years ago. She's...the head of the House in the best position to take over the rulership of the Realm."

Aya nodded to herself, looking lost in thought. Kale looked at the three of them, and still felt quite confused. "Pardon my ignorance, but the three of you seem to know something I don't. Ophelia, who is your mother?"

Ophelia took a deep breath, still staring at the table. "Her name is Mnemon."

Kale's eyes grew slightly wide. "Wait, as in House Mnemon of the Immaculate Order, run by Mnemon, the eldest daughter of the Scarlet Empress?"

Ophelia nodded. "The very same."

Kale nodded, still looking a bit shocked. "I see. Do you mind if I ask what your name was before you 'died?'"

Ophelia sighed a little, leaning back in her chair. She took a sip of tea before replying in a soft voice. "My name was Amaya." She looked up with a small smile. "But as you know, she's dead. All that remains now is former Captain Artana Ophelia, recently given an honorable discharge from the Immaculate military for exemplary service."

Aya sat forward, pouring herself another cup of tea, looking at Ophelia with concern. "Do you have any regrets?"

A far-away smile appeared on Ophelia's face, as she looked out the window absently. "No, none. I'd been raised all my life to believe that when an Anathema Essence came for you, you'd become a demon, and do all manner of terrible things that you had no control over, only able to watch helplessly as you became a tool of destruction and cruelty. However, I've felt and seen none of these things, and from the three Solars I've met so far, none of you feel that way, either."

Morjin, Kale, and Aya shook their heads, small smiles on their faces as they remembered how previous points of view had been rather different than the reality. Aya spoke up. "If one becomes an Abyssal, then those things are true. In the case of Solars, its most definitely not the case."

Ophelia looked at Aya curiously. "Why do you say that?"

Kale answered before Aya could. He answered gently, but bluntly. "She was an Abyssal up until a little more than a year ago."

Ophelia's eyes grew wide. "And are you still, Aya?"

Aya shook her head, looking at Kale with a soft smile, gently holding his hand across the table. "No. I'm a Solar now."

Ophelia shook her head in wonder. "If you don't mind me asking, what convinced you to change? What was life like for you before you did?"

Aya looked at Ophelia with a wry smile on her face. "For five years, I had been trained and treated as nothing more than a barely-living weapon of the Underworld, and to my Deathlord in particular. I had natural talent with fighting and even leading others to fight as well, so I was given command of a small regiment. In time, I was promoted to lead his armies, and to spearhead the assault on Thorns a year ago."

If it were possible, Ophelia's eyebrows would have climbed into her hairline. "You don't mean..."

Aya nodded. "I've heard rumors of that battle from others, and heard the nicknames given to me because of that battle from Immaculates. They called me the Dark General, or the Shadow General, or the like. I fell in that battle, and probably would have died." She glanced toward Kale with a soft smile on her face, squeezing his hand gently. "If it weren't for a certain interfering Solar named Kale, I would have."

Ophelia's mouth hung open in shock briefly before she regained her composure. She looked at Kale. "You mean, you were the Solar that the soldiers at the canyon said was helping them?"

Kale nodded, with a small smile. "Yes, and they thanked me for my help by sending a patrol after me."

Ophelia chuckled before returning her gaze toward Aya, her amused look turning into one of wonder. "Aya, what happened after that? How did you become a Solar?"

Aya smiled, giving Kale a brief smile before turning to look at Ophelia again. "Kale saved my life at the canyon, and again from Immaculate soldiers. I owed him my life, so travelled with him as his retainer for a short time, until my Deathlord's minions found me again, and took me back to the Underworld to be convinced of the error of my ways. Kale snuck into the Underworld, snuck into my Deathlord's castle, and even into the Labyrinth where my Deathlord's Malfean patron was torturing me, and saved my life again. It was as he was tending to my wounds that I realized I was falling in love with him, though it took my Essence casting off his own taint and coming back to me before I became a Solar."

Ophelia nodded, her auburn eyebrows knitted in deep thought. "So you led the assault on Thorns to take it for the undead, and now you want to assault Thorns again to take it back for the living?"

Aya nodded, taking a deep drink of her tea.

Ophelia continued in a softer voice. "So you're not just doing it to be magnanimous - you're doing it to help you feel like you're atoning for what you've done, for the lives you've taken?"

Aya nodded again, with a small smile. "It's not enough, but it's a start, I think."

The sound of feet marching into position in the town's center square broke all of them from their thoughts. Aya knocked back the last of her tea, daintily wiping her mouth before giving Kale a loving kiss, looking deeply into his eyes with a soft smile before standing, and facing Morjin and Ophelia. "Sorry to cut this short, but my students are ready to begin their training for today. Perhaps we can continue this talk later?"

Ophelia nodded, feeling somewhat lost for words.

Morjin smiled, and stood up. "That reminds me - Norath and I are supposed to start working on the armor this morning, as we finished the swords you requested."

Aya stopped as she was walking out of the door. "How long do you think it'll be before you and he are finished crafting the armor to my specifications?"

Morjin smiled a little more widely. "Given how quickly he and I seem to work, I'd say by the end of the week."

Aya nodded with a smile. "Thank you, Morjin. Please tell Norath I said thank you as well, if I don't tell him myself today."

Morjin nodded as Aya left the room and began addressing her students outside. Morjin looked at Ophelia. "Would you mind dropping by the blacksmith's building today, if you've time? I'd like to take a closer look at your firewand, and see if it can be replicated. Don't worry, I won't take it apart."

Ophelia smiled and nodded, still obviously lost in thought.

Kale chuckled and stood up himself, drinking the last of the tea in his cup. "I'd better go take a look around the outskirts of town as well. Good speaking with you, Ophelia. Take care, Morjin."

Quickly, Ophelia was alone in the tavern, alone with her thoughts.


	49. Those Who Rule the Wilds

A week had gone by, and all the soldier's armor was nearing completion. A few logistical and cosmetic changes by Aya, Norath, and Morjin were decided upon late in the process, necessitating a bit more time. Aya had been working non-stop with the soldiers, training them in combat maneuvers, archery, how to fight on horseback, and many other skills.

Kale, however, still hadn't much to do. This had not gone unnoticed by Aya, though she didn't mention anything more about it until another week later, when all the armor for all the soldiers was completed.

All Aya's students, Aya herself, Morjin, Kale, Norath, Ophelia, and the townspeople at large were quietly watching as the soldiers donned their armor. When they had finished, nearly everyone's jaw dropped in awe.

A layered chestplate overlapped a long steel chain shirt, with each piece of the armor designed to overlap the others, to allow few weak points. If an enemy managed to get an arrow or a weapon strike through the few weak points, the person inside wouldn't be seriously hurt. If it was a weapon that was stabbed into a specific weak point, the person within could easily trap the weapon. The armor's coloring was a brilliant azure, with golden-colored orichalcum trim. The helmets had a swept-back look, with a nearly winged appearance that still allowed an enemy no significant purchase with a strike. A faceplate completed the helmet, made of tightly wound steel and orichalcum mesh, with a harder steel plate over the mouth and nose. A motif of a roaring tiger was emblazoned on the chest of the armor on a single plate, showing the warriors' status as Tiger Warriors; the Alon-Ti.

As the soldiers stood silently and unmoving in formation, with the two swords at the side; the shorter over the longer, with bows over their shoulders and quivers of arrows on their backs. They looked more regal and more impressive even than Immaculate troops.

Aya stood in front of their formation, inspecting her troops with clinical precision. By comparison, she looked nearly drab; one's eyes naturally moved off of her and back onto the more brightly-armored students she was training. Her all-black armor blended perfectly with the hair she had tied into a braided bun on the back of her head. However, all her students followed her quiet orders to change stances, salute, and change formations with well-trained precision.

For a few moments, she paced in front of the troops while looking each soldier in the eye, being quietly pleased to see only calm assurance in the eyes of each one. Suddenly, she shouted "Fire!" while pointing to a target set on the locked wallgate on the other side of the town. She had made sure no townspeople would be in the way before this, as she was using this little show of their ability to show what the Alon-Ti could do for the townspeople of Mishaka.

As one, the soldiers whipped out their bows, nocked arrows, and fired in ranks, each firing rank dropping into a crouch to allow the next row to fire. All eyes looked at the distant target, and noticed that all the arrows had struck the target. A few had hit the center of the target, though none had been fired into the wooden walls surrounding the target.

The townspeople cheered at first, though quickly quieted down at a smile and a wave from Aya. She turned to address her students, shouting "Attention!"

As one, they stepped back into formation, and saluted her in the same strange way; by making a fist with their left hand, covering it with their right, and bowing, and rising with arms at their sides.

She paced in front of them, eyeing them closely as she spoke to them in a loud, clear voice. "Your introduction to the way of the Alon-Ti had officially been completed. Now you are ready to begin your real training to become among the best warriors to ever live in this age. This will require discipline from you, and hard training. Any who wish to go back to your people and live the life you once knew is free to go now, with no hard feelings, and with my blessing."

Not a single student so much as twitched. A small smile played around the corners of Aya's mouth.

"Very well. Take the rest of the day off, and meditate on what the Way of the Alon-Ti means to you personally. Think about this, for this will be a strong undercurrent of the tide that shall sweep you into completing this training. You are dismissed."

All of them bowed as one to her once more, and began wandering about town, or going outside to meditate, or just be alone with their thoughts. More than a few townspeople approached Aya about joining; some she accepted, some she did not. If the people questioned her rejection, she simply answered "The Way does not fit you."

After the crowd had dispersed, with Morjin and Norath arguing again good-naturedly as they walked back to the blacksmith's building, Aya approached Kale with a smile. "Impressed?"

Kale grinned and shook his head. "I admit to being amazed, love."

She smiled up at him as she softly kissed him. She pulled back with a smile, gently stroking his face as her armor dissipated around her like smoke on a breeze. "But don't think I haven't noticed you getting bored, my beloved."

Kale looked slightly embarrassed, but nodded. "I know this is important to you, and I'll help support you in any way I can - because I love you. However, there doesn't really seem to have been much to keep me occupied."

Aya gave him a satisfied smile. "If I bribe you, will you be willing to send a message for me?"

Kale raised an eyebrow, smirking. "Depends on the bribe, depends on who you want me to give the message to, and it depends on what the message is."

Her arms encircled his waist as she stood closer to him to look him in the eyes more comfortably. "I want to know if you're willing to go to the Lunar territories, and ask for their help in attacking Thorns, and removing the undead from there as permanently as possible. You see, I'm going to be training two groups of students at once now, and sending riders out to nearby towns asking for their recruits as well. I'll have Morjin's help to train the newest students, but I'm going to feel tremendously guilty if I can't spend any time with you, and I won't want you to feel or get the impression that I don't love you with all my heart just because I'm going to have no time."

Kale nodded, kissing her gently, which she warmly responded to. She pulled back with a slightly anxious look on her slightly tanned face, awaiting his response. Kale smiled at her. "I know you have your hands full, and you're right about this - we'll probably need the Lunars to help with this. I don't doubt your ability to lead an army, but this is a small one compared to the one you led to first take Thorns. I'll be happy to go even if you didn't bribe me."

He paused, with a growing smile on his face. "I am curious though - what's the bribe?"

Ays grinned at him, pressing herself against him to look him closely and softly in the eyes. "For one month, once all this is over with, at a time of your choosing, I'll say yes to anything you ask that only involves you and I."

Kale's eyebrows rose, as an amused smile grew on his face. "Anything, huh?"

Aya grinned at him with a hint of promise in her eyes. "Anything."

Kale looked thoughtful as he smiled, but both of them knew what his answer was - he was merely thinking of the possibilities. "Alright, I'll go. But I do ask that sometime before I take you up on your offer, you learn to make that wake-up tea from the innkeeper."

Aya raised her eyebrows curiously, as a small smile betrayed the innocent look she was trying quite hard to wear. "Planning on exerting a lot of energy, are you?"

Kale kissed her back, long and passionately, which left both of them slightly breathless. "Oh, bet on it," he replied with a grin.

They looked at each other for a few moments more, staring into once another's eyes before they both let go. Kale strode up to their room in the inn where all his things were kept, and appeared again only a few minutes later, wearing his long, thin traveling jacket, with a quiver full of arrows on his back, and an orichalcum bow over his shoulder.

Aya's eyebrows rose as she saw the bow. "I thought you had to give up the only one Melia had to escape the Labyrinth. Wherever did you find that one?"

Kale kissed her again with a smile. "Melia had a spare."

They shared a few quiet moments, talking to each other softly, saying goodbye without saying goodbye. Soon enough, Kale strode away, out of the wallgate, and toward the wild Northlands, where no regime save that of the wild Lunars themselves reigned. Aya watched with slightly shining eyes before she turned away, walking to the blacksmith's shop.

* * *

Kale had to admit, he'd missed being in the wilderness. Its wildness had called to him ever since he was a little boy. He didn't fear being alone in the wilds of the North in the least; he was just as familiar with the plants and animals that made their home in the forests as he was with his own hands. Kale knew that he had a couple days' travel at least before he entered the territory of the Lunars. His father's advice for meeting one was pretty simple - "apologize if it tells you that you've done something wrong, and leave as quietly as you can."

As he traveled over the days, he made camp, rested, and kept hiking most of the day. To pass the time, he lost himself in thought quite a bit, though still keeping his senses sharp for any sign of the border markers that might signified their territory - if indeed they used any.

He was voluntarily going into their territory, and to ask for their help, no less. Kale sighed to himself as he vaulted a boulder. It seemed that the complex things in life seemed to break down into many simple things when you thought about it. Even a strange point of view could be understood once you understand the underlying reasons for a person to hold that point of view. One may not agree with it, but at least you would be able to understand it.

Kale shook his head as he hiked. A little over a year ago, his primary concerns were dealing with his parents' death, and learning to make a living as best he could. The Anathema of all sorts were a distant bogeyman. And now that he had become one of them, he had learned many things. The Solars, for instance, had a very long memory, as did the others. Their memories were passed from incarnation to incarnation between people; they often called the time when a person Exalted as that person's "second breath," in reference to the first breath a child takes when born into the world.

The Lunars were in most underlying ways the same as the Solars, from what he knew. They passed on their abilities and Exaltation from lifetime to lifetime, just as the Solars did. However, they hadn't been captured and their Essences imprisoned. They had learned to live on the edges and outskirts of the world, becoming even more bestial and wild than Melia had described them from the time of the First Age. They had kept their society going, though its rules were unknown to anyone who wasn't a Lunar, and that was the way they seemed to prefer it. They had long memories as well, and were quite apt at righting a wrong committed to them.

Aya had never told him how she managed to wrest control over a barbarian horde from a Lunar, other than blithely saying she won a fair duel. However, Kale suspected that no young or weak Lunar would be allowed to raid villages with a barbarian horde in tow, which made him wonder how she managed to do it. She had merely shrugged when asked, saying that she had won. That always made his eyes narrow slightly; her habit of not bragging seemed to almost go into the realm of not saying enough.

He had been traveling a week now in the wilderness, sneaking by quietly, so as to not disturb or frighten the beings that called this expansive forestland home. Sometimes he had been forced to make leaps from tree to tree to follow a river, so as to stay on his course. He didn't really think about it until afterward, smiling as he remembered the simple rote Melia had taught him to make his feet light. He used it almost unconsciously now, as one might do with anything one is used to.

Kale still worried from time to time about becoming too sedate and too comfortable with the abilities granted by his Exaltation, and so still used his own natural skills as a woodsman and a hunter as much as possible, utilizing the rotes that channeling essence could invoke only when necessary. He smiled to himself as he realized he had done this unconsciously now as well; he'd only drawn upon the essence within him when he had no other recourse, other than wading slowly through a rushing river. There was no room on the banks due to how tightly overgrown the trees were. Kale began to suspect that this was perhaps by design of someone who knew how to influence forest growth.

This, along with other subtle signs he noticed as he progressed into the greater Northern forests made him suspect that he was entering Lunar territory. The signs for their borders weren't obvious at all; indeed, he probably wouldn't have noticed them if he hadn't been living in a forest most of his life.

Little things, like how trees had grown, the way some animals looked at him curiously as he snuck by, previously unseen, and other little things made him think that he was now being watched by beings who did not worship or venerate the Sun. They worshiped the mercurial Luna, and all the wildness granted by those who were Luna and Gaia's consorts, warriors, and shamans. The very breathing life of the wild, unexplored places was brought to towering heights by the influence of these Exalted.

Kale took a few breaths to calm himself. He might be walking purposefully into the territory of those who would not, in all likelihood, consider him a friend. The ties Melia had spoken of and experienced more than a millennium ago were now broken and untied; the Lunars and the Solars no longer had business with one another.

Part of it was that the Solars were bound for a thousand years, prevented from Exalting anyone during that time, while the Lunars had survived, and moved onward without their one-time mates, friends, lovers, and companions. He thought that those who survived the First Age wouldn't have many friendly feelings either, remembering the decadence and all manner of terrible things the Solars had done in their arrogance. Kale shook his head. Though Melia and her husband Melek had been respected and even been called friend by the Lunars, they were only two out of over three hundred.

Kale climbed a tree to take his rest again, quietly casting the rote to wake him if something wished to disturb him. He hoped it actually worked; the times he'd used it he hadn't ever been awakened by it. He settled into an uneasy sleep.

Without warning, the glaring, bright and hot image of the sun appeared, interrupting his dreams. He sat bolt upright and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes as he took stock of his surroundings.

It was now past midnight, the light of the moon obscured by clouds, except for small patches of soft light here and there. At first, he didn't see or hear anything suspicious, but he kept looking, using essence to enhance his senses as he did so.

Then, he saw them. Eyes, reflecting the dim light of the moon up at him. He counted six pairs of eyes at first, and they weren't the eyes of small creatures. He looked around, and saw a few more, all looking at him, and all surrounding the tree he was sleeping in. He counted at least ten eyes looking up at him, and heard a few growls from them.

One of them spoke to him. It sounded like the voice of a large and angry bear growling, even as it spoke with the tongue of humans. "You are trespassing!"

Kale squinted down, refocusing his eyes as he looked at the one who spoke. It was indeed a very large bear, standing on its hind legs. However, it was larger than a bear normally would be, and with much longer hind legs. He noticed that one of its forepaws clasped a spear tightly.

He called down to the one who spoke, deciding that being polite to them would probably go over best. He took a deep breath to calm himself before speaking. "I am sorry that I did not announce myself to you before I entered your territory, but I did not know how I should. I came to speak with you."

The huge bear snarled at him more savagely, the sound echoing through the trees before it spoke once more. "You are alone, Solar! You are either foolhardy or ignorant. Come down to the ground, or we will bring you down!"

Kale heard acknowledging noises coming from the eyes around him, but was unable to see what shapes they were wearing. He nodded. "Alright."

Quietly channeling his essence into the rote to make his feet light, he jumped down from the high tree, somersaulting gracefully through the air as he did. He landed without a sound, a trick he had often used as a boy to scare Aya to no end, and he was thankful he hadn't forgotten how to do so now.

Kale stood, and looked at the one in the shape of a bear that had spoken to him. He heard soft noises of the others coming closer, surrounding him on all sides. He decided to speak up once more now, before things got ugly. "I am here because I wish to speak to your council of elders."

He heard the soft noises of movement stop, and rough, savage laughter break out around him. The chuckles of those that sounded like wolves, some of large birds of prey, some of big cats, some of snakes, though the one with the shape of the bear laughed the loudest. The bear's growling laughter held more than a hint of contempt. The bear answered shortly with growls and snarls punctuating his words. "What arrogance makes you think you are even worthy of being food for them, Solar?"

Kale took another silent breath, looking up into the shadowed huge face of the bear, twenty yards away. "Because the woman I love is raising an army to shatter the foothold the undead have in our world, and I'm here to ask for your help in doing so."

There was a short pause, and then laughter louder than before broke out around him on all sides. After a few seconds of hearing their laughter, he was swiftly surrounded on all sides, each being only ten yards away, and visible now. All were in a hybrid form of human and beast, and all carried weapons. The one in the shape of a hybrid bear walked with silent footsteps to within a bare two yards away from him, looking down on Kale from a great height. Kale almost strained his neck to look the huge being in the eyes, as it glared savagely down at him. "I have decided that you are both ignorant and foolhardy, young Solar! What makes you think our elders would listen to you? From your smell, you haven't even had the Sun touching your soul for ten summers yet, let alone the hundreds of summers our elders have seen!"

Kale's jaw tightened in a determined look. "I'm not trying to insult your wisdom, and I'm especially not trying to presume on your hospitality. However, I do know firsthand the kind of blight the undead are. The Deathlord responsible for it released a contagion that slew nine out of ten people living around the area of Thorns seven years before Thorns was taken, in an effort to swell the ranks of the Deathlord's army. The Immaculate Order is now attempting to trade with them instead of attacking them. If left unchecked, they'll keep spreading, and by the time the Immaculates actually do something about it, it might be too late."

The great bear growled down at him. "And how is this our problem? We have no problems with Deathlords, and they have no problems with us."

Kale looked determinedly up into the great bear's huge eyes. "Because they hate all life. They will spare nobody in their effort to supplant all life with the dead. The woman I love is now in a position to pull the rug out from under their efforts to slowly spread into our world with the patience of centuries, and put a halt to it before it becomes a problem."

The huge bear exhaled sharply at him, causing a hot wind that nearly pushed Kale back. "I will tell you this, Solar. If in your previous lifetime you were called friend of our people, you would know a few names of who now would be called our elders. If you can name one we know, we will bring you to them."

The bear leaned down to put his huge, brown-furred face in front of Kale, and growling meaningfully. "Fail, and no one will ever find your remains!"

Kale inclined his head, not looking away from the great bear's huge eyes that glared into his own. "Long Stripe Fangs-First, or Winterstripe as he is known now."

The bear stood bolt upright, and glared down at him. "How do you know his name, Solar? SPEAK!"

Kale did not look away. "He trained my previous incarnation in the Art of the Tiger, in thanks for her helping him when the rest of the Council decried the Lunars. He also gave her the Silver Horn in thanks for saving his life, a weapon I carry now."

The bear took a long, deep breath, and exhaled sharply at Kale. "You are lucky, Solar, for Winterstripe still lives. I think he'll be extremely interested in knowing how a child like you could know of him. Come!"

Kale followed the great bear and the other Lunars deeper into the forest.


	50. Not One of Us, But One of Us

Kale walked softly over the soft earth, shadowed by the height of the huge trees. Only his abilities of seeing sharply in the dark allowed him to see at all, amplifying the barely-ambient light into something he could see. The forest all around him was dark, forbidding. It seemed to reflect the Lunar's attitude that outsiders were not welcome here. The very trees themselves seemed to view him with deep suspicion as he walked with the Lunars, the wind howling through their branches with low, ominous noises.

The Lunars escorting Kale made no noise as they walked through the forestlands, but that didn't surprise him in the least. Even the Lunar with the shape of a huge hybrid bear didn't make a single sound as his huge paws stalked across the ground. The strange, bestial Lunars were walking all around Kale not to protect him, but to make sure he didn't try anything silly – like running.

He had to admit to himself, he was slightly scared. He'd be a fool not to be, what with invading the territory of those who despised civilization and the ills it brought, and wanted to be left alone. He was invading the places they called home; they had every right to treat him as an enemy.

They kept a brisk pace, moving like swift, large menacing shadows through the forest. Kale got the uncomfortable impression that these people had a strong connection with the forest. The low and ominous howling of wind through the trees seemed to keep pace with them as they moved, and fading away as they passed.

Hours passed at their brisk pace, Kale finding it slightly difficult to keep up, though many long years of long walks helped him keep up with the blistering pace the Lunars set. He stumbled once on a tree root that seemed to grow out of the ground to entangle his feet as they swiftly walked. He managed to regain his footing and keep walking, but he felt a spearpoint pressed to his back afterwards. "Move, Solar!" a snarling voice behind him ordered.

Them calling him "Solar" all the time and not even asking for his name was beginning to get on his nerves. However, he wisely kept a lid on his temper for now. This was not the time or place.

The horizon began to brighten slightly, heralding the coming dawn. Kale smirked to himself at the conversation he'd had with Aya about this, and their times of getting up about now to race the sunrise. The Lunars didn't seem to notice, simply pushing ahead with alacrity.

Around the next twisting path, Kale saw two trees that would normally be seen in towns as the posts between which a gate was put, though there was no gate here. He saw others here, some in the form of humans, some in the form of animals. They began to smile when they saw the coming Lunars, but their smiles swiftly changed into scowls of suspicion at seeing him. All of them pointedly turned to put their backs to him, talking amongst themselves with low voices, shooting glances of dislike at him.

Kale shook his head. He knew the Solars hadn't made such a good name for themselves at the end of their time, but he hadn't known it was this bad. Then again, over a thousand years had passed, and the stories told of the Solars were probably worse now than when they actually happened.

Without warning, his escort halted in their tracks. The huge Lunar in the form of a bear stamped his spear against the ground, and called out in a low, slightly growling voice that nonetheless carried quite a distance, echoing in this place like thunder through the mountains. "Elders, we found a Solar intruding on our territory. He is arrogant enough to travel alone, and speaks with words of war against the undead, and of speaking with you, our honored elders. He remembers the name of the Shahan-ya, Winterstripe."

A few men walked out of tents and from off the ground, walking into a half-circle formation, facing the great bear Lunar. All were silent for a few moments, one of them toward the left breaking the silence.

As the elder opened his mouth to speak, his teeth were revealed to be wide, long, and serrated. Kale got the uncomfortable impression this elder's totem was that of the shark. He was a wide, stocky man, with his face and head shaved bald. He looked at the great bear who had spoken, but his words were addressed to Kale. "The Solar wishes our help against the undead, hmm? How arrogant."

The great bear bowed his head slightly before lifting his head once more to speak. "Yes, Ikth-ya Marin. He said that his woman is preparing for war against them, but desires our help."

One of the elders, a tall, savage-looking man clad in the pelts of wolves stepped forward gracefully, looking suspicious and curious at the same time, speaking with a growling voice that reminded Kale strongly of a wolf. "What is his mate's name?"

One of the Lunars shoved Kale from behind roughly. "Ssspeak, Ssssolar!"

Kale lifted his head, and looked at the elder clad in wolf pelts. He was shoved again, the hissing voice behind him sounding angry. "Do not insssult an elder by addresssing him directly, fool!"

He began to grow angry, but he swallowed it down. For now. He addressed the bear in front of him. "My fiancee's name is Aya."

Most elders looked uncomprehending, though a few had amused looks on their faces, looking at the elder clad in wolf pelts. The one clad in wolf pelts looked surprised, and then broke out into loud laughter. "Haha, it's not enough that she takes my horde, now she wants more?"

The elder that reminded Kale of a shark spoke again, looking at the elder in wolf pelts. "Golgol, is his mate the one who cut you asunder?"

The elder named Golgol laughed louder before answering. "Aye! Well, here's my answer, Solar. If she wants more of my horde, then she shall have to come here and duel me again!" He looked toward Kale with a savage grin on his face. "She will not find me so easy an opponent this time, this I swear by my honor!"

The other elders chuckled savagely at this, some clapping him on the back.

A low, slightly reverberating voice seemed to undercut Golgol's bluster. "No."

Golgol bowed his head respectfully. "Shahan-ya."

Kale was surprised to see the tall man with black hair, and a scar over one eye that he had seen a few weeks ago in Mishaka step forward, looking at Kale thoughtfully before turning his head slowly to look at Golgol once again. "You underestimated your opponent, Golgol. A fine war leader you may be, but unthinking arrogance your downfall."

Golgol nodded somberly. "You are right, Shahan-ya Winterstripe. I saw a lone woman come out to stop us, and I let my thirst for battle overcome my judgment."

Winterstripe slowly turned his head to coolly regard Kale once more. "If you would come here asking for our help, Solar, then know this: only those we consider one of us may ask for our help. You are not one of us. You have no name to us save that for which you are, and are unworthy of our assistance."

Kale looked downcast. This wasn't how he had hoped things would go at all.

The man spoke again, with a bit more of a tiger's growl entering his voice this time. "However, if you wish to prove your worthiness to us, we will put you through our Rites of Initiation, the same ones we put our young ones through to test their capability...and worth."

Kale spoke to the bear in front of him, not wanting to upset any unspoken decorum. "What must I do?"

A slow smile grew on Winterstripe's face. "Know this, my people. The Solar you see before you shows the same quiet courage and determination that his predecessor showed, long ago. His predecessor was friend to us, even to being given one of our sacred weapons in thanks for her brave deeds."

He turned his head slowly toward Kale once more, looking at him coolly once more. "Let us find out if he is worthy of being called the Successor of Melia. Know this, Solar: you are already considered an adult, and therefore your tests will be harder than those we would give a newborn Lunar, fresh from their Second Breath. Knowing this, do you wish to accept the Rites of Initiation, in hopes of gaining a voice here?"

Kale lifted his head, even as he addressed the bear in front of him. "I do. When can I start?"

A slow, savage smile appeared on Winterstripe's face. The other elders had mixed reactions, though a savage grin from Golgol made Kale unsure. Winterstripe spoke with the same low, reverberating voice, the growling undertone being more prominent now. "One mile north of here, there is a tall, young spruce tree with a robin's nest at the top. It has four eggs within the nest. Bring to me one egg from that nest without chopping the tree down, or moving the nest or the other eggs in any fashion. You have until sundown. Go!"

Kale sped out, relying on the signs of the forest, such as moss on certain sides of the trees help guide his way north. He heard soft footsteps following him, which didn't surprise him - of course they'd want a witness. He kept running, looking sharply on all sides of him to find the clearing. Through the dense undergrowth and forest, it was difficult to find his way, but he found the clearing after half an hour. His jaw dropped as he beheld the tree.

It was enormously tall. Very thin however, with the bottom branches being barely enough to hold a man's weight, let alone the ones further up. He looked around, and saw that there were trees surrounding this lone spruce tree, but they were all at least thirty yards away. Kale began thinking furiously about how to get the egg down from the nest, barely visible from the great height.

He began pacing quietly as he thought. He might be able to make his feet lighter with the rote he'd learned from Melia, but he seriously doubted it would make his feet light enough to climb such a slender tree trunk. Then he smiled, as he thought of a way.

Kale ran toward the tree closest to the spruce tree, ascending high enough to see the nest on the spruce tree, thirty yards away. He started throwing his weight back and forth, slowly at first. The mighty pine tree began to sway slowly. Kale kept throwing his weight in sequence, making the tree sway back and forth more strongly. Just as the tree was swaying toward the spruce tree once more, Kale channeled his essence into the rote that would allow him to leap mightily, using the momentum of the tree to help propel him. The muscles in his legs bunched like a coiled spring, releasing and straightening as he flew from the massive pine tree, toward the nest atop the spruce.

As he sailed by the nest in midair, he swiftly and carefully grabbed a single egg out of the nest. The parabola of his leap ended with him sailing toward a tree on the other side. Kale ducked into a crouch in midair to absorb the impact of hitting a tree. A branch bent to strike him painfully as he hit the tree trunk, but he grimly kept a tight, though gentle grip on the egg. He descended the tree, and looked at the egg once he had reached the ground.

He looked up to see the the Lunar in the form of a hybrid snake looking impassively at him, and wordlessly walking back toward the village. Kale followed, trying hard not to feel smug.

As he entered the village, the Lunars there looked suspiciously at him before turning their backs to him once more. He ignored the silent, though telling gesture as best he could. He walked back in front of the elders, still standing in a semi-circle. A few looked at him with surprise and raised eyebrows, some with suspicion. Golgol spoke to the Lunar in the form of a hybrid snake next to him. "Did he complete the test with honor?"

The snake nodded once. "Yesss. The Sssolar did not cheat."

Golgol nodded back, a grim smile appearing on his face. "Then here is your next test, Solar who would be one of us. Put the egg back where you found it, with the same restrictions! You have until sundown once again, Solar. Go!"

Some of the elders chuckled at this, some with rueful looks on their faces. Kale guessed that some of them had undergone the same test. He sighed to himself, nodding respectfully to the elders before departing back to the spruce tree.

Kale put the egg back in the same way he had acquired it in the first place, being extra careful this time so as to not damage or crack the precious cargo as he jumped. As he landed in the branches of the opposite tree once more, he saw the mother robin landing amongst the eggs, chirping suspiciously before settling down over them comfortably, preening herself.

Kale watched the robin with a small smile, before descending the tree and walking back to the village behind the snake-like Lunar. He reached the village once more, the Lunars there pointedly ignoring him again. The elders looked at him impassively as he returned, nodding respectfully to them once again.

The snake-like one spoke once more. "He finissshed sssuccesssfully once more."

Golgol grinned savagely at Kale, his canine teeth prominent. "Hah! I failed that one in my youth. We would applaud you for succeeding in your first test, but you are not a Lunar. Accolades shall await you...if you succeed. Are you ready for your next test, aspiring Solar?"

Kale nodded, speaking to the hybrid snake next to him, seeing that the great bear Lunar was absent for now. "I am."

Golgol grinned more widely, more of his wolf-like teeth being visible. "You will count coup against another Lunar now. You will hunt one another through these forests. Again, you have until sundown."

Kale spoke again, addressing the ophidian Lunar. "I apologize for my ignorance, but what is 'counting coup?'"

Golgol chuckled roughly. "You must touch him on the back of the head without him seeing you beforehand to win, and he may win with the same conditions on you."

Kale couldn't help but ask. "May I ask which Lunar I'm having this contest against?"

He heard the great bear's voice from the entrance to the village, snarling at him. "Your opponent in this test is me, Solar! I will knock you unconscious, and drag you back to this village to face the fate of a failure!"

With that, he stalked silently into the forest beyond. Kale swallowed. Golgol's voice rang out once more. "Are you ready, child?"

Kale nodded to them respectfully, and walked out of the village, and into the forbidding forest beyond. He knew he was at a disadvantage here already, as the great ursid Lunar most likely knew every branch and every tree root in this place, and all the best places to strike out in ambush.

He smiled to himself. However, he was capable of becoming as a ghost, unseen, unheard, unsmelled, and undetected. Kale channeled his essence through his anima first, feeling the sense-stifling ability take effect. He also masked his scent and footsteps, and finally his very form began to blend in with his surroundings.

Kale ascended a tree with perfect silence, none of the branches moving to announce his movement as he did. He looked and listened carefully in all directions. Not detecting his quarry yet, he leapt silently into another tree, waiting a few minutes as he extended his senses all around him.

He kept silently moving through the dense canopy above for over an hour before he found a trace of his quarry. The scent of a bear reached his nostrils, and he followed the scent, all the world blind and unaware of his passing.

It was another half an hour by his reckoning before he finally saw the great ursid Lunar stalking carefully through the forest, gripping his spear tightly. Kale crept up silent behind him, taking things slowly. As Kale reached only ten yards away from the Lunar, he saw the Lunar turning swiftly to look behind him.

Kale froze against the side of the tree, blending in perfectly with the bark of the tree trunk. The ursid Lunar looked behind him suspiciously, his nose sniffing for scent for a few agonizing minutes before turning around once more and begin moving again.

Kale exhaled silently. He ascended the tree with a branch above where the Lunar would pass, and waited for the Lunar to walk by. The Lunar's eyes were wary, his ears turning to listen to even the smallest sounds. Kale lightly tapped the great ursid on the back of the head as he stalked by beneath the branch, cartwheeling out of the tree to land on his feet behind the Lunar with a grin as he released the essence used to strengthen his natural stealth. "Gotcha."

The huge lunar spun around at the feel of Kale's hand of his great brown-furred head, and his gaze turned murderous as he saw who had tapped him. He growled menacingly at Kale. "You may have passed this test through trickery I know not, but know this - if you try that again, I'll be picking my teeth with your bones!"

Kale nodded, not saying anything. The ursid Lunar stomped angrily back to the village, stopping before the elders, jabbing his spear in Kale's direction. "I know not how, but the Solar counted coup on me. Did anyone watch him for trickery?"

A swift landed gracefully on a tree branch near the elders, hopping down to the ground to assume the form of a youthful-looking petite woman. She shook her head. "I watched him ever since he left the village. I watched him closely as he began using essence, though he did not draw any essence from the forest around him. What he did was fair, though I was barely able to follow him."

Winterstripe nodded slowly as he looked at the three, his gaze finally landing on Kale like a cat might pounce on a mouse. "I did not expect you to succeed in this. Uf-ya Harmony of Stones was raised in these woods."

The huge ursid Lunar, Harmony of Stones, growled menacingly at Kale before returning his gaze to Winterstripe once more. "Shahan-ya Winterstripe, honored elders, I concede the Solar victory in this test."

Golgol spoke up after gulping down a drink from his bone cup. "Very well, Solar. Here is your next test: bring me a fat deer. Again, you have until sundown."

Kale nodded, and walked out of the village once more. His sharp hearing heard the lower voices of the elders speaking with one another as he left.

He heard Winterstripe's voice first. His voice sounded reproving. "A deer, Golgol?"

Golgol had a note of protest in his voice. "I'm hungry! Who better to bring me dinner than a person undergoing the Rites of Initiation?"

He heard strange, rough laughter from another elder. "Thinking of your fat belly again, Golgol. I might've known."

Kale smirked to himself as he walked out of earshot, and nocked an arrow in his bow, moving with practiced ease through the forest. This forest might have its own ways and personality, but it was still a forest. He found a deer in an hour; a strong-looking eight-pointed buck looking cautiously around him before bending its neck to take a drink from a stream.

Kale's arrow flew straight and true, passing through the buck's neck to sever its spinal cord. Kale walked over to the deer, and quietly intoned the prayer he had learned from his father to give thanks to the deer for giving him its life, and wishing it a good journey, removing the arrow carefully once he was done. He swiftly gutted the deer before struggling to put the deer over his shoulders, finding that he was forced to channel essence into his muscles just to carry the big deer.

He walked slowly back to the village, the great weight of the deer slowing him down quite a bit. He looked at the sun, seeing that it was nearing eveningtime, and soon, sunset. He shook his head as he walked. What a day this had been.

Soon enough, he had arrived back at the village, and somewhat gracelessly placed the fallen buck on the ground in front of the elders. He did his best to place it gently on the ground, to honor the great animal, but his muscles strained to do so.

A quiet voice, that of the woman whose totem was a swift spoke up after the deer had been placed on the ground. "The Solar gave a respectful prayer to the fallen deer after killing it with one shot."

Golgol nonchalantly wiped the drool away from his mouth as he beheld the huge buck. "Respectful, was he?" A growl sounded in his throat as he looked at the deer hungrily. "A fine catch, as well."

The deer was swiftly skinned and carved, the elders sharing the meat of the deer without roasting it over a fire. They devoured it hungrily, remarking between mouthfuls how sweet the meat was. Kale's stomach growled, as he hadn't eaten since he had been woken up before sunrise.

The elders left a little meat on the bones of the breast, wiping their mouths as they assumed a semi-circle once more. "You may have the rest, Solar. You caught it."

Kale nodded, and ate hungrily, not really caring that it wasn't cooked. The meat was still somewhat warm, and tasted delicious to his empty stomach. There wasn't quite enough to make him full, but there was enough for a good meal.

Golgol addressed him once he had finished eating. "You may find a tree outside our village to spend the night in, if you can manage sleeping like a Child of Luna for one night. Sleep well, for you have many more tests ahead of you!"

Kale nodded to them respectfully, walking out of the village to find a suitable tree. He found one without much difficulty, a tall oak with high branches. He swiftly climbed the trunk and settled into one of the branches halfway up, falling wearily into dreams.

Over the next few days, the elders subjected him to many imaginative and difficult tests. Most he managed to triumph through his ingenuity and natural agility, but some he failed. He had had to run a marathon against the huge ursid Lunar, Harmony of Stones, a marathon that lasted a week. He could run faster than the huge Lunar, but the ursid Lunar could run for days on end without resting or even slowing down. At least he hadn't lost by much; he was able to see the great bear shuffling swiftly into town as he ran within sight of it.

Tonight, he was returning from a rather difficult test, having to dodge spears thrown at him for more than an hour without pause, and without being able to draw upon his own essence to enhance his ability to dodge. He was following the Lunars back into their village with a slight limp, as one of the spears had scratched his hip, but he had managed to dodge the rest, some by less than a hairs-breadth.

They stopped before the elders once more. Winterstripe's low, reverberating voice spoke as they stopped, bowing their heads respectfully. "Step forward, Solar."

Looking a little confused, Kale did so, trying to hide the limp.

Winterstripe stepped forward, looking at Kale carefully. "Do you swear on your honor and your life to follow the Silver Way? To never flee and never surrender, to always repay your debts, to be just and generous to those beneath you, to slay not a Lunar without just cause, to defend what is yours, and to honor your word to the deserving?"

Kale nodded his head respectfully. "I hold all those values dear already. I swear it upon my honor."

Winterstripe spoke with a loud roar, changing before Kale's eyes to become a huge half man, half tiger at least eleven feet tall with his huge, striped arms stretched toward Luna, high above. He called in a loud voice, his voice echoing with the low, rumbling roar of the riger. "Forevermore, you shall not be known to us as another faceless interloping Solar. We, the council of elders, recognize you as Kale, and give you a title; that of Nain-ya. Not one of us, but one of us."

All Lunars had stopped their whispering and talking, and were standing reverently silent. Winterstripe dropped his arms, and looked down at Kale, speaking in a lower, reverberating voice that echoed all around them. "You are not blessed by Luna herself, but you have gained her favor through your trials. Know that you will never ascend in our society above that of Nain-ya, or "Kin," as you are not a Lunar."

He roared out again, the roar of a tiger taking form of the words humans spoke. "Children of Luna, bid welcome to the Nain-ya!"

All of them made loud calling noises of their various totems toward Luna, shining brightly above. The noise continued for several minutes, the energy of the place compelling Kale to yell wildly to Luna above as well.

Winterstripe's form shimmered as he became a man once more, regarding Kale with an inclined head. "Your name among us has been decided by your actions, and how you have performed in your trials. We will know you as The Cloaked Sun. This was Melia's title among us when we called her friend, and we bestow the same title on you now."

With that, the Lunars walked by him, mostly smiling and nodding at him as they passed. Some thumped him on the back companionably as they passed, some even congratulating him.

Harmony of Stones, however, still glared at Kale as he passed by. "Don't think for a moment I trust you, Solar."

Even with that remark, Kale felt triumphant. He felt sore, tired, and in pain, but triumphant. He took a deep breath, relishing the moment with eyes closed. He smelled the scent of the tiger close by, and opened his eyes to see Winterstripe standing before him. He spoke with the same low, reverberating voice. "Rest tonight, eat and be merry. You may bring the business you came here to speak of tomorrow morning."

Winterstripe began walking away, though turned his head and stopped, looking at Kale almost as an afterthought, a semblance of a smile on his face. "Well done, Nain-ya."


	51. Unleashing the Spirits of War

"Wake yourself, _Nain-ya_! Are you planning on sleeping all morning?"

Kale opened his eyes slowly, sat up on the thick tree branch he was sleeping on, and looked down at the speaker who had addressed him. The wolf pelts draped around his broad shoulders, and his feral grin as he looked up at Kale removed all doubt as to the speaker's identity.

Kale rubbed his eyes as he grabbed his jacket from the tree limb above him. "Nah. I'll be right there, _Ikth-ya_ Golgol."

Golgol's growling voice had more than a hint of amusement. "Glad to hear it, _Nain-ya_. Being late to the meeting you came here to ask for would make you lose some of that renown you've worked so hard to get!"

Rough chuckles faded away into the distance as Golgol walked back into the Lunar village. Kale stretched, and flipped backwards out of the tree, landing on all fours as he hit the ground below. He rubbed his eyes a bit to wake himself more swiftly as he walked, and brushed some of the tree bark and leaves out of his hair.

As he walked into the village this time, the change seemed marked in how the Lunars looked at him. The looks of distrust, anger, and suspicion were replaced by a relaxed friendliness. Some simply nodded to him as he passed, others smiled and wished him "G'mornin, _Nain-ya_ Cloaked Sun!"

Renown and tribal hierarchy were very important to them. Kale guessed that this was how their society had survived the Usurpation, the Wyld invasions, and many other calamities that had befallen the world in the last thousand years.

One gained renown based on one's deeds in one of four areas: offering succor to show mercy to those who have committed no sin, showing mettle and internal fortitude, displaying cunning and cleverness, and the glory of those who show valor. As one's renown in these four areas increased, so too eventually did one's rank within Lunar society.

The names the Lunars gave their ranks were in a very old tongue, long-forgotten except by the elders of tribes. _Urrach-ya_ was the spiteful name they gave to Lunars who had never lived outside the comforts of civilization, or had abandoned the wild ways of Lunar society altogether. _Nain-ya_ were "Kin," considered junior members of society. Lunars who had just taken their Second Breath fell into this rank after they'd finished their initiation, but other Lunars expected them to "grow up" out of this rank eventually. Once a Lunar had made a name for him or herself with the others, they gained the rank of _Uf-ya_ , "The Honored." Most Lunars he met in the village were of these ranks.

The older ones, the Lunars who had proven themselves many times earned more respected titles. Golgol was _Ikth-ya_ , meaning "The Respected." It fit him as war chief of his tribe, since he had gone above and beyond what had been expected of him many times. Most of the elders were _Murr-ya_ , or "The Revered." They did not earn this rank by age alone, but by their deeds, and their actions as well.

From what he had learned of the Lunars, the _Shahan-ya_ , or "The Greatest" were very rare. Typically Lunars who had been alive since the First Age held this rank, though Luna herself had to come before a gathering of respected elders and speak highly of the Lunar for them to achieve this rank. Whether the holder of this title was a mighty sorcerer or a cunning and valorous warrior, it made little difference. Winterstripe held this rank, and from what Kale had been told, the other _Shahan-ya_ could be counted on both hands, with a few fingers (or other digits) to spare.

Kale shook himself out of his thoughts as he approached the gathering of elders, standing together in a semi-circle once again. The elder bearing the totem of Shark spoke to him first. Kale was secretly very glad that he was allowed to speak to them directly now, and that they didn't derisively call him "Solar." He was proud of being what he was, but the way they said the word sounded like a grievous insult.

" _Nain-ya_ Cloaked Sun, you have approached our people, and passed the tests to be listened to. Speak your piece."

Kale nodded, taking a deep breath to gather his thoughts before he began. "My beloved fiancee, Aya, is gathering an army to combat the undead who now inhabit Thorns. She wishes to scour the lands clean of the undead blight, to remove the foothold they have here. The Immaculate Order..."

He was interrupted briefly by a snort of derision from Golgol. Kale heard Golgol mutter a few vicious, scathing comments about the Dragon-Blooded, ending with the comment "...and I wouldn't wipe my ass with one if his tiny insignificant life depended on it."

Most of the elders glared at Golgol, but he pretended not to notice. Marin motioned for Kale to continue.

"Alright. Yes, the Immaculate Order appears to intend to trade with them, not seeing that this is precisely what the Deathlord who commands the undead there intends. He wishes to quietly and slowly spread his influence throughout the land. By the time the Immaculates understand what's happening, it will likely be far too late."

One of the other elders smirked slightly. " _Nain-ya_ , all of us know the arrogant, blind idiocy of the Dragon-Blooded, and the threat the undead are to this land. Get to the point, young one."

Kale smiled back. "I want to ask for your help in getting more troops to help Aya in her fight against them. She has three hundred soldiers now, perhaps a few more, but it will not be enough."

Golgol leaned forward, his eyebrows narrowed. "I must ask, _Nain-ya_. I know she intended to train my former barbarian horde. Was she successful?"

Kale smiled a bit more widely. "When I left to come here, she said they were done with the basic training in the ways of the Alon-Ti."

Half the elders gasped in shock. Golgol regained his composure first with loud, howling laughter. "You mean to tell me she wanted to shape that rabble into Tiger Warriors? And she was _successful_? Oh, I cannot help but like this woman. She will be a worthy opponent indeed!"

One of the other elders looked at Golgol reprovingly. "You came back that day all alone, your shirt ripped, with a long scar across your chest. You've done nothing since then but fight, eat, drink, and froth at the mouth like a rabid wolf for a chance to duel her again."

Golgol grumbled quietly to himself between gulps from his bone cup. The elder that spoke to Golgol turned to Kale. "I believe I've reached a decision, but I must speak to the others."

Nodding respectfully, Kale waited as the elders filed off into the woods. Without warning, he was shoved roughly to the side as a large, bulky and hairy man walked by, glaring at him. "Still here, sniveling for help like a kicked puppy, Solar?"

Kale glared back at Harmony of Stones. "I have a name and a rank here, you know."

The man scowled down at him from his taller height. "You are nothing but a puny, sunny weakling, and I long for the day when the elders see that, and allow me to slay you."

Kale shook his head. "Whatever, fatass."

Harmony of Stones swiftly assumed his huge, half man and half bear hybrid form, growling down at Kale. "I am more highly respected here than _you_ , puny Solar! You will give me your respect, or I'll claw it into you!"

Kale narrowed his eyes as he looked calmly up at the ursid Lunar. "You haven't earned _my_ respect. You've done nothing but try to bully me like a coward, push me around, and talk big with your prejudice about my kind."

Harmony of Stones growled loudly at Kale, holding his arms slightly out to his sides as he extended his huge black claws, each easily as long as one of Kale's fingers, and far thicker. "Your kind has done nothing but bring harm to the world, Solar. None of you have the courage or wisdom to see the Silver Way!"

Kale continued looking up calmly at him. "I did. Or were you high and drunk over the past few days?"

The huge Lunar roared down at Kale, his fetid breath blasting into Kale's face. "Through _trickery_! All of you are weak, powerless, and frightened, or your kind wouldn't have left like whipped dogs a thousand years ago!"

Kale's jaw tightened as he glared angrily back up at Harmony of Stones. "The Solars didn't leave, they were _imprisoned_ , you fat fool! Imprisoned and betrayed by those they trusted. Yes, the Solars turned decadent at the end, which is why the Lunars left in the first place, and yes, the Solars at large didn't see their mistakes until it was too late. But you should _never_ accuse one of being a coward!"

Harmony of Stones leaned down to put his huge, furred ursine head near to Kale's. "I'm calling you a weak coward now, Solar. You are too weak and powerless to do _anything_ about it!"

Kale put his right leg behind him, facing Harmony of Stones sideways. "I'm giving you one chance to take that back."

To his surprise, Harmony of Stones laughed at him. "The day you manage to defeat me in a fight is the day I'll _begin_ to consider giving you my respect. That day will never come!" Harmony of Stones roared his challenge down at Kale. "I CHALLENGE YOU TO A DUEL OF HONOR, SOLAR!"

Kale closed his eyes, awakening and stirring the essence within him. It began to surge through him as his adrenaline began pumping, and he calmly channeled it in the ways Melia had taught him, in the Way of the Tiger. He felt his skin harden, his entire body begin to move much more fluidly as the rotes began taking effect. He had to draw some of the ambient essence from this natural place, forcing his anima to shimmer into existence around him, swirling with dark blues, greys, deep reds, intermixed with broad streaks of gold. He opened his eyes, looking calmly up at Harmony of Stones. "I accept. Bring it, fatass."

The huge, ursine Lunar's muscles looked like they were straining out of his skin, the veins becoming visible even through his thick fur. His claws shimmered slightly, becoming longer, serrated, and brightening to the color of silver. "I have claws, Solar! What weapon will you bring to this fight, weakling?"

Kale smiled grimly up at him. "Funny you should mention claws," he said off-handedly as he reached into his jacket, and slipped his hands into his tiger claws. He channeled a little more essence into them as he did so, helping them to guide his strikes. He brought his hands up as he ducked down slightly in a crouch, in the Form of the Tiger. Both claws glowed with a soft, golden light, just as the Thamaya's Blessing gem in his bracer began to glow a with a soft, warm reddish light.

Harmony of Stone's eyes widened slightly as he saw the silver claw on Kale's right hand. "That's a weapon made of Moonsilver! Where did you steal that, Solar?"

Kale smiled a bit more grimly. "It's called the Silver Horn. I'll make sure to introduce you two properly."

They began circling one another slowly, Harmony of Stones with his arms outstretched in the manner of bears, and Kale moving in a graceful, flowing crouch. Kale sized up his opponent as they circled one another warily, waiting for the other to strike first. Kale knew that with Harmony of Stones' appalling strength and resistance to harm, just a single strike from the huge ursid Lunar would hurt grievously. On the other hand, the huge Lunar was as slow as he was strong, which Kale could exploit.

With a roar, Harmony of Stones rushed at him, attempting to grab Kale in his arms and crush him. Kale nimbly darted out of the way, striking viciously into the huge Lunar's side, causing him to snarl angrily. Kale's jaw tightened as he saw that the wound was already beginning to close and heal before his eyes.

Growling in rage, Harmony of Stones swatted at Kale with his huge, gleaming moonsilver claws extended. Kale ducked out of the way, punching the Lunar in the stomach with one claw, and slashing at his side with the other as he moved swiftly to the Lunar's side, and out of his immediate reach. Kale took a deep breath. In order to win this fight, he'd have to attack unrelentingly. If he didn't, the huge, resilient Lunar would simply heal the wounds, and eventually hitting Kale hard enough so that the fight would end.

The back of a huge paw slapped into Kale's chest, making him fly backwards, skidding a few yards as he hit the ground. Kale felt one of his ribs was grating against itself painfully from the blow as he sat up, but he flipped gracefully to his feet anyway, rushing at the bear with the speed of an enraged tiger.

Kale could see that the huge Lunar hadn't expected this, as he barely had time to open his eyes slightly in surprise as Kale leapt upwards, landing with one foot on the bear's broad chest, and using his chest as a launching pad from which to flip nimbly up and over the bear. Kale's claws slashed viciously at the Lunar's shoulder tendon and neck as he leapt behind Harmony of Stones, causing the ursid Lunar to roar in pain and anger.

Kale landed in a crouch, moving already. He knew he'd have to keep moving, and striking swiftly to keep the terrifyingly strong and resilient Lunar off-balance.

The huge Lunar spun around swiftly, his paws and arms wrapped in an ethereal blue fire as he struck out at Kale. However, Kale was no longer there, darting to the side of the Lunar in half the span of an eyeblink. Kale yelled out as he channeled his essence into this strike. The Silver Horn sprouted a burning, golden fire that enveloped his entire hand, the ghostly shape of a huge tiger's paw with outstretched claws surrounding his hand as he slashed viciously between the Lunar's ribs and pelvis, aiming for a kidney.

The smell of scorched fur and flesh reached his nostrils a half second before Harmony of Stones roared out his rage at being hurt so grievously, seeing the large, scorched hole in his side. Kale was aiming for another strike even as the huge, ursid Lunar was recovering from the last attack, which gave Harmony of Stones an opportunity to strike back. His claws rent Kale's chest and jacket, making Kale gasp in pain at the four wide, long scratches in his chest.

However, adrenaline was pumping too swiftly through Kale's body for him to feel the pain very strongly, tied as it was with the essence that ebbed and flowed savagely within him. He struck back even as the Lunar's huge claws tore the flesh of his chest, tearing into the Lunar's stomach. He darted forward toward the enraged Lunar, and bared his teeth in concentration as his hand and claw became enveloped in burning golden fire and the ghostly tiger's paw once more, striking strongly at Harmony of Stones' other side.

Harmony of Stones howled in pain and anger, rushing forward to attempt to enclose Kale in a deadly bear's embrace. Kale had darted out of the way too swiftly to be grabbed however, and struck again, deep into the Lunar's lower back, the same burning golden fire and wraith-like tiger's paw surrounding his fist.

The huge Lunar gasped and fell to his knees, slumping forward, held up only by his stocky arms. He didn't move at first, simply breathing heavily. His voice was tight with pain, the growling note in his voice stronger than usual, despite being in his hybrid ursine form. "Hold, _Nain-ya_."

Kale straightened, standing fully upright once more, breathing heavily. His tiger claws were matted with brown fur and dark red blood, as were his hands. He looked down at them, and saw his chest for the first time, opening his eyes wide with shock as the pain began to make itself felt. Kale gasped audibly as the pain fully garnered his attention.

The huge Lunar slowly and painfully stood upright, turning around to face Kale, still panting from the pain as he spoke. "I concede, _Nain-ya_ Cloaked Sun. You have my respect."

With that, still in his huge, hybrid ursine form, he walked slowly away toward his rough encampment further off in the village.

Kale dropped to his knees as the pain made itself fully felt, the deep, rending claw wounds in his chest oozing blood at an alarming rate. His anima faded back into obscurity, the essence used to power the multiple rotes he used being released back into the surrounding forest.

Hearing a noise in front of him, Kale looked up slowly with half-lidded eyes from the pain, and almost closed them again upon seeing who'd made the noise.

The elders of the tribe had returned, and were standing around him in a semi-circle. Marin, the Lunar that resembled his Shark totem spoke quietly to one of the other elders. "Bind the _Nain-ya_ 's wounds. I shall attend to Harmony of Stones."

Kale faced the ground with his eyes closed at this moment. He began to feel a cooling energy wash over his chest and ribs as a hand pressed itself on the deep tears in his chest. He opened his eyes in surprise, seeing the wounds close slowly, and feeling his rib rejoin once more. He was helped to his feet, almost being knocked back down as a heavy hand thumped his shoulder. Kale looked at Golgol's ferally grinning face as he helped Kale to stand. "You've got guts, _Nain-ya_. There aren't many that would willingly face Harmony of Stones in a duel."

Golgol began walking back to his place amongst the other elders, but stopped and turned around halfway, looking at Kale with a sly grin. "Oh, and clean your claws, _Nain-ya_. You're in the presence of the elders."

Kale smirked, chuckling softly before wincing sharply, as his ribs were still tender. He looked at what once had been his shirt, and scornfully just took it off and used it to carefully clean his claws. At his unspoken question, the Silver Horn reformed itself into a simple staff, making it much easier to clean. Once he was done with the golden orichalcum claw, the Silver Horn silently reformed itself back into a claw, and he slipped both into his jacket pockets, standing to face the elders at last.

At first, he was confused at their wide-eyed stares. However, Golgol was the first to break the silence. It seemed to be a running theme with him. "By Luna's innocent blood, was that the Silver Horn?"

Kale nodded respectfully. "Yeah. Melia left it to me, and told me how to use it properly."

Winterstripe spoke up, startling Kale. He hadn't even known the _Shahan-ya_ was present. "Allow me the honor of seeing the Silver Horn, Nain-ya."

Kale nodded, taking the claw out of his jacket pocket and handing it to the tall, one-eyed elder. When the weapon touched his outstretched hands, it silently reformed itself into a great, wide-bladed cleaving sword for a few moments before changing silently back into a tiger claw. Winterstripe's grim face smiled fondly as he looked at the weapon. He spoke quietly with reverence. "It remembers me."

He looked at it for a few more moments before nodding to himself, and handing it wordlessly back to Kale, who slipped it back into his jacket.

Winterstripe walked to Kale's left, looking at the forest beyond the village. "That was indeed the Silver Horn," he said in a distant voice, lost in memory. The elders stayed silent, letting the old Lunar run with his memories for a few moments.

Their patience was rewarded when Winterstripe stood straighter, and took his place in the center of the half-circle of elders, facing Kale once more. "Golgol, since you spoke loudest and most eloquently in the meeting, you get to tell the _Nain-ya_ Cloaked Sun our decision."

Golgol grinned ferally as he nodded respectfully to Winterstripe before facing Kale once more. "I shall return with you to Mishaka with the rest of the horde I lead. They number two hundred brave, strong barbarian warriors, and I will be honored to lead them into battle against the undead to ensure your victory!"

Winterstripe sighed quietly, and rolled his eye. "Be honest, Golgol."

Golgol laughed loudly for a few moments before grinning at Kale savagely. "Fine! I'm going to make sure you and your mate win the battle against the undead, so I can have a rematch with her. By Luna's loving grace, I'm going to make _damn_ sure the first time was a fluke!"

The other elders chuckled, shaking their heads. Winterstripe even cracked a smile at this, speaking to Golgol in his usual low, reverberating voice. "You are irrepressable as usual. Go then, Golgol, and gather your horde. Be swift, for the ravens of war are beginning to circle."

Golgol howled up in a savage prayer to Luna as his form changed into that of a hybrid man and wolf, standing ten feet tall, with dusky grey fur. He raced off swiftly into the woods with the long, tireless stride of a wolf.

Winterstripe turned his head to regard Kale once more. "Go to the edge of our forest, _Nain-ya_. Golgol will return in half a day with his horde, and he will meet you there. Go now with our blessing, and one condition: return here with your mate once the war for Thorns is over."

Kale nodded respectfully to Winterstripe and the other elders. "Thank you, all of you." He paused for a few moments, trying to think of a good farewell for these people who lived so in tune with nature itself. "May your hunting be plentiful, and Luna's wisdom guide you."

Marin chuckled, a sound that sounded like rushing water. "Unlike the fat and lazy Golgol, we can catch our own prey."

The other elders chuckled at this, as they began to disperse their separate ways. Winterstripe walked up to Kale, looking at him silently for a few moments. "I am pleased to see that Melia's successor learned the fighting art I taught her, so long ago. You've learned it well. Did she teach you?"

Kale nodded. "Yes, _Shahan-ya_. I visited her Manse, and she left her gifts of knowledge there for me to seek."

Winterstripe smiled slightly. "Please, call me simply Winterstripe when the other elders aren't present. I am...weary of titles."

Kale smirked, and nodded. "Okay."

The tall Lunar looked toward the entrance to the village. "Come, Kale. I will walk with you to the limits of our territory."

Kale nodded, somewhat surprised. "Thank you!"

Winterstripe smirked as they walked. "It seems the threads of fate bind you and your predecessor strongly. Melia fought a Lunar and won as well, though his totem was Bison. That Lunar unfortunately perished long ago, but he and Harmony of Stones have much in common." Winterstripe chuckled, a sound that sounded like a tiger growling in the distance. "The look on his face as the tiny woman proved the strength of her spirit to him was...amusing."

Kale smiled. Somehow, he could easily imagine the cheekily grinning woman doing just that.

He and Winterstripe walked in silence out of the village, when a deep voice hailed them. " _Nain-ya_ Cloaked Sun!"

Both of them turned around, seeing Harmony of Stones walking toward them, in the form of a human. He held a shirt in one hand. His eyes widened slightly as he saw Winterstripe, nodding his head respectfully, and greeting him. " _Shahan-ya_."

Winterstripe nodded back, appearing almost regal as he did so. Harmony of Stones looked down at Kale once more. "Take my shirt, _Nain-ya_."

Kale looked surprised, but accepted the offered shirt. "Thank you, _Uf-ya_ Harmony of Stones. But why?"

The large man looked impassively down at Kale. "I tore yours. It is right that I should give you mine."

Without another word, he walked silently back into the village, Kale looking after him with a look of wonder on his face.

Winterstripe smiled. "You have earned his respect, Kale. Wear the offering of a defeated opponent with pride."

Kale smiled at this, and took off his jacket to put on the shirt over his bare chest. The arms and bottom of the shirt draped down a fair distance, but rolling up the sleeves somewhat solved that. Once he was done, Kale put the long jacket on once more, adjusting his satchel.

He and Winterstripe walked through the forest easily. Kale noticed with amusement that the forest seemed...friendlier now. No ominous winds blew through the branches of the trees, no tree roots seemed to try entangling his feet. He felt a soft breeze blow over his face as they walked.

Seeing the look of wonder on Kale's face as they walked, Winterstripe clarified. "You have the respect of the Lunars now, and have earned your place amongst us. You have the forest's respect now because of this. You respect and follow our ways, and it knows this."

Kale nodded. It made sense that the wild home of the Lunars should have its own intelligence, though the implications made him wonder.

They walked for a few hours, Winterstripe telling him a few more tales of his people as they walked through the dense forest. Kale learned of how the Lunars first learned to survive in the Wyld, and how they had learned to tattoo protections against the Wyld's changing ways, though the Wyld had left its mark upon them even so, helping his people to be more mercurial, more changing. It took them a while to learn to use this gift, and not see it as a curse; even so, there were Lunars in the Wyld and in the world at large who had lost all their humanity, but none of their cunning. They were non-people in Lunar society, but respected because of their strength and great age.

Winterstripe stopped, looking into the distance with a small smile on his face. "This is where I leave you, _Nain-ya_ Kale, the Cloaked Sun. Go, return to your mate at Golgol's side, and bring honor to your people."

Kale nodded respectfully to the elder Lunar, smiling. "Thank you, Winterstripe. Thank you again, and I wish you well."

Winterstripe returned the nod, and seemed to melt into the forest. Perhaps he had.

Kale walked another mile out of the forest, to see Golgol standing in his tall hybrid wolf form, a huge moonsilver cleaver with a wide, chopping blade resting on his grey-furred shoulder. Many barbarians were at his back, armed to the teeth, and they all looked like experienced battlers.

Golgol bared his teeth at Kale with a savage grin, the wolf's growling note strong in his voice. "About time you showed up! Come, _Nain-ya_! It is time to let loose the spirits of war!"


	52. The Forces Gather and Coalesce

Howling filled the evening air, as Golgol shouted his exhilaration and wild joy of simply being alive in the most ancient of prayers to Luna, shining softly high above. Kale was running swiftly at his side, with the barbarian warriors joining in Golgol's howling with savage shouts of their own as they followed close behind.

The barbarians had their bodies and faces painted with the impressions of wolves, some with piercings in their faces to accentuate the effect. Few wore full armor, but most wore leather coverings of some kind to act as such. Some ran clad only in loincloths; these last shouted the loudest and most savagely to join in with their Lunar patron.

The return back to Mishaka was far faster than Kale's trip from there, because Golgol and his barbarian followers knew the fastest and most direct route. Sooner than Kale expected, they emerged onto the hilly plains surrounding Mishaka.

Golgol shouted to Kale as they ran, the deep, wild growling of a timber wolf forming into human words. "Battle comes, running on swift and untiring legs, and flying with strong wingbeats! Are you ready for the battle ahead, _Nain-ya_?"

Kale grinned as he ran. He hadn't activated the Thamaya's Blessing in his bracer. He knew Golgol and he could run very quickly, but that would mean leaving the horde behind, and neither wanted that. Kale shouted back, "The same Deathlord who took Thorns let loose a contagion that slew my parents. You bet your ass I'm looking forward to it!"

Golgol laughed wildly before speaking once more. "Do you know the name of this arrogant and power-hungry Deathlord?"

Kale grinned, before shouting to make himself heard through the wind as they ran. "Yes, but Aya warned me never to speak his name while he still lives, as he has magic to let him hear and see those that speak his name heedlessly."

Golgol laughed louder and even more savagely, before howling defiantly. "Paranoid, eh? And for good reason, Children of Sol and Luna come to bring the entire world down upon him!"

Kale chuckled at this, but said nothing. For the rest of the night, they ran tirelessly and swiftly toward Mishaka. He began to recognize the hills and valleys with more clarity now; at this rate, they would arrive at Mishaka right before dawn. Kale smirked to himself at the thought.

"Well Aya, you were right - Night is coming before dawn," he thought to himself with a wide grin.

As the Eastern horizon was beginning to lighten with the impending sunrise, they saw Mishaka in the distance at last. Fifteen minutes of hard running brought Kale, Golgol Fangs-Through-Eye, and his barbarian horde to the gates, where they were hailed by the soldiers standing guard.

"Halt! Announce yourselves!"

Golgol shifted back into the form of a human once more, as Kale spoke up with a smile. "Good morning! Tell your Teacher that her fiancee's home, and to set two hundred and two extra places at the breakfast table!"

The soldiers at the gates relaxed, chuckling, as one of them darted swiftly back into town. The other soldier spoke up. Kale could tell the soldier was grinning, even though his facemask obscured his face. "Welcome back, Kale! Is that Golgol Fangs-Through-Eye I see with you?"

Golgol's eyes narrowed, wondering how in the good graces of Luna this azure, gold, and steel armor-clad soldier possibly knew his name. His answer was blunt, and to the point. "Who are you?"

The soldier removed his faceplate, nodding respectfully to Golgol. "It is I, Tanesh!"

Golgol squinted at him, before his eyes widened in surprise. He shouted back with a wild grin. "Tanesh! What the hell do you think you're doing with that fancy getup?"

The soldier was about to reply, but stopped as Aya walked through the gates, wearing a simple long shirt and loose-fitting thin pants. She walked through with purposeful strides, though Kale could tell she had just been woken. She looked with a raised eyebrow at all the people outside the gates, raising the other eyebrow as she beheld Golgol, and breaking into a wide grin as she saw Kale.

At some hidden signal, Kale and Aya ran swiftly toward one another, Kale wrapping his arms around her waist as he lifted her into the air while turning in place, looking up at Aya's beaming face looking down at him before setting her down. She smiled widely as she wrapped her arms around his neck, and kissed him passionately.

They kept kissing one another, not noticing anything else until they heard Golgol begin chuckling. "By the good graces of Luna, one would think the _Nain-ya_ had a leech on his tongue!"

Kale and Aya broke the kiss slowly, both glaring sidelong at Golgol before returning their attention to one another again. Kale grinned at her. "Apparently you were right - Night came before dawn."

Aya chuckled softly as she looked at him, her face showing her surprise as she saw his torn jacket, and very different shirt. She looked into his eyes, concerned. "What happened to you, beloved?"

Kale shrugged nonchalantly. "I got into a fight with a bear."

Aya leaned back with her hands still clasped behind his neck, giving him a tolerant look, one of her eyebrows raised.

Golgol grinned at both of them. "It's true, Dawnshadow. He beat the bear badly enough to take his shirt! Hah!"

Aya looked back and forth between Golgol and Kale, shaking her head slightly as a smile began forming on the corners of her full lips as she looked into Kale's deep brown eyes. "Were you harmed?"

Kale lifted his shirt, revealing the deep scars of the bear's claws on his chest, making Aya's eyes grow wide with shock. She looked back into his eyes, the deep concern evident on her face. "Who healed you?"

Golgol spoke up, a defensive tone entering his rough voice. "I did!"

Aya looked at him, and shook her head. "You healed him badly."

Golgol narrowed his eyes. "He's walking without bleeding, isn't he?"

Aya shook her head again, still looking concerned, but Kale saw the brief twinkle in her eyes. "He will need to be bathed, his wounds cleaned, and re-healed to fix them properly."

Golgol inhaled deeply, feeling annoyed now. "And what are my barbarians supposed to do in the meantime, hmm?"

Aya was about to grab Kale's hand and lead him back through the gates, but stopped long enough to look at Golgol coolly. "Are you and your horde here to do battle at Thorns?"

Golgol grinned ferally, a deep growling note entering his voice. "Eagerly!"

Aya nodded, looked critically over the barbarians gathered behind him, and looked back at Golgol again. "Lead them inside, all of you should meet with the others at whose side you'll be fighting."

With that, Aya clasped Kale's hand strongly, and almost dragged him back through the gates. Kale winked at Golgol with a grin as he followed her, Golgol shaking his head and grinning back at him in return.

She halted in the town square, and shouted "Attention, Alon-Ti!"

Though many of her students were still asleep, they were all gathered in full armor and weapons in perfect rows in front of her within ten minutes. Aya nodded to them. "You have today off. Meet with your friends and tribesmen that arrive now."

Many of the soldiers looked interestedly at the barbarians filing into town. The barbarians were looking askance at the trappings of civilization as they entered.

Aya nodded with satisfaction, and moved quickly with Kale toward the inn, and their room on the top floor. She stopped as a soldier shouted, hailing them. "Teacher! Another arrives, with a barbarian horde at his back!"

"There's always something," she muttered softly as she walked back outside. Kale chuckled as he followed, curiosity compelling him.

Kale looked interestedly at other soldiers here now that had evidently arrived in his absence. They were standing together as a group somewhat apart from everyone else. The soldiers appeared to be just waking up, standing outside, drinking the innkeeper's morning tea with sleepy smiles on their faces. All were armored in either steel or jade armor of various types, though none of the armor resembled that worn by soldiers of the Immaculate Order.

From the way they looked, they appeared to be a mix of humans and Dragon-Blooded, which made Kale wonder. Were these Dragon-Blooded Outcaste, that they would willingly stay here amongst those they considered Anathema?

Kale returned his attention to the gate, where he heard one of the soldiers outside shout. "Halt, and announce yourself!"

Golgol began sniffing toward the gate curiously, and followed Kale and Aya toward the gates as they heard the newcomer's response. The man stood tall, with a grim look on his face. He was fully armored in heavy plate, carrying an iron mace that resembled the head of a snarling dragon.

"My name is Ken, and half my army should have already arrived, led by a boy named Sam. I am here to destroy the undead menace, led by the Mask of..."

Aya cut him off sharply. "Do not speak his name! I shall explain why later, but please do not utter his name until this battle is over, and he and all he leads lies broken and crushed."

The man narrowed his eyes at her for having interrupted him, but nodded to her warily. "As you wish."

Aya nodded to one of the soldiers, who ran toward the mercenaries. He returned shortly with a boy, about twelve or thirteen years of age, though already Exalted as a Wood Aspect Dragon-Blooded. His green skin and the bark covering his neck and shoulders gave him away immediately as such. He looked outside the gate, and nodded respectfully to the man standing outside, greeting him formally. "Kenneth, you arrived sooner than we expected."

One of the soldiers looked at Aya, who nodded once more before speaking, the soldiers throwing the gates open wide to admit the newcomers. "Welcome to Mishaka, Ken. Please, come in with your horde."

The man nodded respectfully to Aya as he walked in, silently followed by his barbarian horde. Golgol looked at the man curiously, sniffing the air with narrowed eyes.

As the man, Ken, walked into town and looked around curiously, Aya swiftly pressed herself against Kale, gently clasping his face with her hands as she kissed him softly, an apologetic look in her blue eyes. He smiled back at her kindly as he gently touched her face in return, glanced at the man walking in, and looked back at her with a smile. She nodded, smiling back, before walking with purposeful strides to the center of town.

The town seemed to be bustling now, filled as it was with Alon-Ti soldiers, some Dragon-Blooded Exalted and human mercenaries, and barbarians of different tribes. They were glancing at one another warily, knowing they were all here for the same purpose, but unable to quite let go of their suspicion of one another.

Even the low murmuring of the soldiers fell silent as Aya strode to the center of town. She turned to look at Ken as he glanced toward her, and smiled at him before addressing everyone, speaking in a loud, clear voice that rang with authority. "Everyone, do me the honor of giving me your full attention!"

The Alon-Ti fell silent first, followed by the mercenaries, and the barbarians' murmuring slowly fell silent as they all looked at her.

Once everyone was silent and looking at her as she wished, she continued in the same loud, clear and eloquent voice. "I welcome you and thank you for coming here for this purpose. You come from different places, grew up knowing different ways of life and believing in different things. However, all of you must fight together on the same side, as the undead will all treat you as if you were one people."

She let that sink in for a few moments before continuing. "All of you see the threat presented by the undead coming from the Underworld to gain a foothold here, attempting to spread with the patience of centuries slowly throughout the world. What they want is simple: they want the entire world to join them in death, and everything they do, every thought in their minds is to further that goal."

Aya looked around at the various soldiers' faces, seeing indignation, anger, annoyance, and irritation at the thought of this. She continued once more. "Some of you have lost friends, brothers, sisters, parents, children, or countrymen to the undead. Some of you survived when they came to your town, slaughtering everyone, and looking on with horror when the dead rose again, but like nothing you knew in life."

Aya raised her head, looking with grim confidence at everyone. "I will lead you to strike out at them, and cut out the black heart of the undead invasion. We will not do the Deathlord honor or respect of speaking his name until he lies dead and broken at our feet! I will lead you to destroy his generals, his lieutenants, his servants, his worshippers, and his savants!"

Some of the soldiers began grinning at the thought, and started talking amongst themselves, falling silent as Aya continued once more. "Some of you may be wary that there are Exalted among you in this army. Some of you are Exalted, looking warily at the other kinds of Exalted among you. I tell you this - we must fight as brothers and sisters, fighting as a unified force, for that is assuredly how the undead will fight us. Dissonance, suspicion, hatred, and fear of one another will be exploited by the followers of the undead to divide you, and kill you while you are alone. We must fight together toward the same purpose, trusting one another and in one another's skills, for that is how the undead will fight us. If we fight together as a unified force, we will win, making this undead threat a memory to tell tales to our children about. If we are divided, we will lose!"

Aya noticed that the soldiers were standing straighter, looking more determined, and more hopeful. Even Golgol was standing with head held high as he listened. "Today, we get to know one another. Learn about one another, learn each other's history, and set aside your differences and prejudices. Differences shape who we are, and should be celebrated as strengths to be honored, and not differences to be scorned because our neighbor is not like us. Tell tales with one another of your families, your losses, your victories, and what led you here. Everyone here has a task they must perform in this army and in the upcoming war, and in that respect, we are all equal. Some of you might be stronger, swifter, more skilled, but we are all needed in this fight. The Exalted will walk amongst you here as equals. Offer them not worship or fear, but extend a hand of friendship, for some of them have not had such a thing for a very long time. To the Exalted here, I say this: in this fight, in this war, and in this purpose, everyone here is your equal. Treat everyone here as such, for even you were completely human once. Remember that, lest your pride overwhelm your humility and common sense."

At this, she glanced at Golgol, who winked back at her with a feral grin. She returned his smile, and continued once more. "Share drinks with one another, share food with one another. Feel free to make your own emcampments outside of town if you wish, but welcome anyone to your fire as a friend to fight beside. Everyone, you have my deepest thanks for coming here for this purpose, and I hope everyone here feels the same as I. You are all welcome and necessary here!"

In one voice, the Alon-Ti shouted "Hai!" in acknowledgement of her speech. The barbarians, not to be outdone, shouted wildly and savagely in celebration. Even the normally taciturn mercenaries joined in, the emotion of the moment filling even their cynical hearts with savage pride and joy. Golgol howling at the sky in sheer savage joy frightened a few of them at first, but their shouts rose in volume swiftly. Even Ken, the newcomer of only a few minutes ago, shouted as well.

Aya nodded respectfully to all of them with a wide smile, grabbed Kale's hand, and walked with him up the stairs of the inn to their room, shutting and bolting the door of their room after they entered. She turned to face him with a twinkle in her eye, and a wide smile on her face. Aya undressed swiftly as she walked over to him, throwing her clothing on the bed as she approached him. She swiftly undressed him where he stood, throwing his clothes onto the bed as well before pressing herself against him and kissing him softly.

She pulled away, with her hands clasped behind his neck as she looked into his eyes, smiling. "I seem to recall you bathing and binding the wounds of a battered woman some time ago."

Kale nodded, grinning at her widely. "Yep, but I did my best not to feel her up at the time."

She smiled more widely, looking at him with half-lidded eyes. "Fair's fair," she said huskily as she kissed him more passionately, and led him to the large washtub.

The soldiers, barbarians, and mercenaries were tentatively beginning to speak with one another, learning one another's names. The Alon-Ti greeted their former countrymen with proud smiles, though the barbarians of their former tribe looked askance at them.

A barbarian with a shaven head, his face painted to resemble a wolf looked at an Alon-Ti he had known when she was still a barbarian. He greeted her with a feral grin, speaking in a loud voice. "Nice fancy getup ya got there, Tia. You really planning on using all them weapons?"

The Alon-ti, Tia, grinned back at him as she removed her helmet, revealing her dark brunette hair and her even darker brown eyes. "Jat-Eth, you haven't changed much. Yeah, I know how to use all the weapons I carry, and the circumstances in which to use each. We've learned much here under Sensei's tutelage."

Jat-Eth looked at her armor and weapons once more before inclining his head, looking into her eyes once more as she smiled warmly at him. "Have ya forgotten the way of a barbarian? Are ya planning on living the easy, weak life now?"

Tia shook her head, smiling warmly at him. "No. The ways of the Alon-Ti and the ways of the barbarian aren't that different, which is why none of us really had a problem with Sensei's training."

Jat-Eth looked at her curiously. "Who's this Sense-ay you keep talking about?"

Tia smirked at him. "Aya, the Dawnshadow. She told us that we should call her Sensei, or "teacher" in the old tongue. The battle at Thorns will be our final test of the Alon-Ti; after that, we may do as we wish."

Jat-Eth smiled at her again. "What're ya planning to do once the war's over, and the undead lie broken and smashed?"

Tia looked thoughtful. "Many of us have talked about settling Thorns, farming the land, while still living and thinking as barbarians do."

Jat-Eth's jaw dropped in shock. "You've gone soft!"

Tia narrowed her eyes at him, her mouth becoming a grim line. "All our children and everyone who lives there will follow the Way of the Tiger Warrior. Anyone who tries taking anything from us by force or guile will learn at the points of our blades to leave us in peace."

Jat-Eth digested this, thinking before he spoke once more. Tia wasn't the wild woman he remembered. She was calm, and looked peaceful now, but that look in her eyes when she became angry was the same as he remembered; though colder, more disciplined. "What about the rest of your tribe, Tia? Will they be welcome there?"

Tia smiled again, the hard look in her eyes fading. "Yes. We will meet friendliness with kindness and hospitality." A portion of that same hard look in her eyes returned. "Hostility will be met with vengeance."

Jat-Eth thought a moment more. "You said you're going to settle, but still live the way barbarians do. How?"

Tia grinned at him. "Everyone does their part; nobody will ride on the work of others. All will have tasks to perform, whether it be hunting, farming, training, forging of arms, or even shamanism."

Jat-Eth nodded thoughtfully. "Hell, sounds good to me. Come on, share a drink with your brother!"

Tia chuckled, and walked with him to one of the campfires set up by his tribe. She noticed that many other Alon-Ti were rejoining their former tribesmen, most going through the same conversations in one form or another, but ending the same way; to share food, drink, and laughter at the fire.

Golgol approached the other man who'd come here this morning, who led a barbarian tribe as well to the gates of this place. He boldly walked up to face the man, looking him unblinkingly in the eyes with a feral grin. "I see Luna found you at last, Kenneth!"

The man looked Golgol up and down with suspicion. "How did you know my name?"

Golgol grinned more widely at him. "I knew your name even before I led my people to Ayodha, to let you know Luna had her eye on you."

Ken narrowed his eyes at Golgol. "You were the wolf who jumped on me at Ayodha," he said flatly.

Golgol nodded once, still grinning. "Aye! Have the No-Moons come for you yet, Kenneth?"

Ken looked suspiciously at the large, barbarian man. "Who are the No-Moons?"

Golgol laughed savagely before looking Kenneth in the eyes once more. "So they haven't. Your Caste is unfixed as Luna's mercurial essence ebbs and flows within you, your tattoos absent."

Ken's eyes narrowed more as he glared at the man. "I don't know what the hell you're talking about."

Golgol shook his head with a toothy smile as he looked at the young, untrained, un-Initiated Lunar before him. He knew this day would come eventually; that it would come shortly before the battle for Thorns was a good omen, indeed. "Kenneth, normally to take your place in Lunar society, you need to go through our Rite of Initiation. That you have the determination to fight for Thorns, using Luna's essence to fuel and direct your rage speaks well of you. After the war, come with me to meet your family."

Kenneth shook his head, still slightly suspicious. "My parents are dead."

Golgol grinned widely at him, revealing the elongated canine teeth of a wolf. "Luna is your mother, Gaia your father, and all Lunars your brothers and sisters."

Kenneth nodded to him, still suspicious. "I'll think about it."

This was answered by a savage chuckle from Golgol. "It is better you go voluntarily, or the No-Moons will take you to meet the rest of your family by force! Luna chose you as her child, do not deny your destiny."

Golgol walked away, still smiling. The young one was suspicious and slightly afraid, but only at what he had become. Golgol remembered the days he was in the young one's place, feeling the same way. Oh, that this young one should come now, leading a barbarian horde when his Caste wasn't even fixed yet was a good omen indeed.

A tall, wide-shouldered Dragon-Blooded mercenary with a shaved head inclined his head as Golgol walked near him. "Hey! Wolf-child!"

The other mercenaries chuckled at this. Golgol turned, grinned ferally at the mercenary who spoke, and walked swiftly up to him, pressing his chest against the mercenary's to glare savagely into his eyes. He spoke with a strong growling undertone in his voice as he glared with wild eyes into the mercenary's slightly widening ones. "You will call me Golgol Fangs-Through-Eye, or you will learn how I got my name!"

The man was silent for a moment, before nodding. "Want a drink, Golgol?"

Golgol grinned at him, his canine teeth prominent. "Share your drink with me, and I'll show you the drink we like. If you can stomach it!"

The man chuckled, and handed him a tankard.


	53. The Deep Breath Before the Storm

Feinting with a punch from the right, Kale rushed forward to ram his left shoulder into Golgol's chest. Following with an open-palmed strike to the solar plexus, Kale spun around and struck Golgol heavily in the jaw with his left elbow.

Golgol took the elbow strike, and knocked Kale heavily to the ground with a well-timed and powerful punch. He chuckled. "You're gonna have to do better than that!"

Kale grinned lopsidedly as he flipped up to his feet, dropping into the Hungry Tiger stance as he did so. "Watch me."

Aya's voice rang out. "Hold!"

Kale relaxed as he stood upright once more, looking curiously at her. She answered loudly enough so that everyone gathered in this group could hear her clearly. "Grab the wooden replicas of your favored weapons, and rejoin this group. Now we practice against multiple attackers at once. If you are struck to the ground, leave the fray immediately."

Golgol, Kale, Ophelia, Ken, and quite a few of the mercenaries were present, and walking to the practice weapon rack to pick their favorite weapons. All of them knew that though they were naturally suited to being captains and lieutenants in the impending war, they would also be targeted as such, and had to practice.

Of the sparring that had occurred so far, Golgol, Ophelia, and one of the mercenaries named Sunny had surprisingly emerged as the most capable of fending off multiple attackers at once. Golgol had won the majority of the fights he was in because of his sharp senses and experience in many savage battles, and Ophelia had won hers due to her martial arts training with her firewand, which enabled her to anticipate attacks that hadn't yet begun, even when she wasn't using the firewand. As for the Dragon-Blooded mercenary Sunny, she moved with the flickering strength and speed that did full justice to her Aspect of Fire.

For the past three months, Aya had been staging mock battles with the barbarian forces and the Alon-Ti, as well as the Exalted amongst their ranks. Various commanders had taken charge of a side while Aya took the other. Though people opposing her almost always lost, she always told them how to improve. Golgol ground his teeth together sometimes at how smoothly her forces seemed to dismantle his. He had to shout powerfully to make himself heard to his forces, while Aya could whisper commands to specific groups in her army no matter where she was on the field, enabling her to move her forces around as if they were on a chessboard.

The barbarian tribes had somewhat reluctantly accepted training as Alon-Ti after seeing how viciously efficient they were in the mock-battles. The mercenaries Ken and his Wood Aspected Dragon-Blooded friend Sam led were already quite experienced fighting in groups, which frustrated the barbarians greatly, as they were used to attacking chaotically. This just as much as seeing the Alon-Ti move with cold efficiency convinced the barbarians to begin their training, and it had paid off immensely.

The mercenaries had more or less politely refused the new armor, though all of them had been trained as Alon-Ti, making their already-impressive combat skills honed to a razor's edge. Some had exchanged their ordinary steel armor with much better-made armor, though they still wanted their armor unique and individual to the individual requesting it. They stood amongst the Alon-Ti in formation.

Golgol and Ken had both accepted the new armor, though both insisted that Morjin use moonsilver instead of orichalcum. Morjin had swiftly departed for the forest the Lunars called home in this part of the world, and returned with a cache of moonsilver, and a Lunar smith experienced at smelting the mercurial metal. Between Morjin, Norath, and the Lunar named Hunts-With-Eyes-Shut, they crafted armor worthy of being worn by a Lunar.

Gordray had been summoned into town at Morjin's request, and he had since served as the town doctor before the attack on Thorns. Aya had looked askance at Morjin's request for Gordray to be summoned, but had acquiesced when Morjin told her that Gordray would be invaluable when it came to combating the undead. That brought a smirk to Aya's face, and she had given her blessing.

Morjin and Norath had worked furiously to get the three hundred plus new recruits outfitted in time, as they knew the time that Aya wanted to lead the entire force to Thorns was swiftly drawing nearer.

All the people there to do battle against the undead learned that Aya was an exceptional tactician and general, though she never displayed anything other than humility when being complemented for it. In every action she did, she proved herself a highly capable general of armies, though she waved off such complements. Kale suspected it was because of how she thought of herself, as her experience in wartime prior to this was when she led her former Deathlord's armies. She felt that she had to prove to herself and others what she had become; what Kale thought she didn't understand yet was that she already had. In any case, Aya pushed herself far harder than she pushed those she trained, usually coming to their room in the inn exhausted, long after sunset.

Finally, the day arrived when they would perform the last battle exercise. Aya strode out of the inn wearing her hair back, tied efficiently in a braided bun, wearing her black armor. She walked out to the courtyard to hear the sound of many feet stamping on the ground once at the same time, saluting her arrival. All the barbarians were now Alon-Ti, standing resplendent in their armor of azure, gold-colored orichalcum, and steel. "Hai!" they shouted in salute to her with a single voice, as she strode into view. Golgol and Ken stood in front of the formation, wearing their new armor, though theirs shone with azure and silver.

Aya walked in front of the formation with critical eyes, noting even the most minuscule details. She opened her mouth to speak, but was interrupted by guards at the East wallgate stopping someone. "Halt! Announce yourself!"

A slightly impatient and imperious voice replied. "Get out of my way and open the gates, in the name of the Scarlet Empress!"

Aya nodded to the Alon-Ti guards at the gate, who opened the gates. The gates were thrown open, nearly throwing the guards to the ground as the Immaculate soldiers walked in. The one leading them was a tall man, with dark blue skin and long white hair, wearing blue jade armor. He looked around the town and the soldiers in formation with an imperious, fixed smile. A strong breeze seemed to follow him obediently as he walked.

As the thirty Immaculate soldiers fell into formation behind him, he called out with a slightly bored tone of voice. "We know you are harboring Anathema refugees in this town, who use their dark power to influence you into doing things you would otherwise not do. We understand and forgive you of your sin of falling under demon's sway, and ask that you send out the Anathema here. Do so, and you will all be spared."

Not a single person moved in response.

The man's smile shrunk slightly in annoyance before speaking again. "We are the Wyld Hunt of the Immaculate Order, and we are here to destroy the evil Anathema you harbor here. Come to your senses humans, point out the Anathema here, and you will be spared!"

Narrowed eyes and silence met the man's request.

The man sighed with annoyance, putting one hand on his hip, armored in blue jade. "Very well. Raze this backwater town to the ground, and slay everyone in it. The infection must be cured and contained, even if the host must die to do so!"

All the soldiers and Exalts under her command heard Aya's whispered command. "Surround them at a twenty yard spread."

With practiced efficiency, the Wyld Hunt soldiers were surrounded at a distance of twenty yards. Aya walked through their ranks to regard the man face to face from within the circle. Her voice was cold. "This is not Realm territory. You have no jurisdiction or power here."

The man smiled as he looked at her. "Women as pretty as you should worry about less ghastly things. We know there is an army here, being raised and trained by Anathema to attack the greatest dynasty this world has ever seen, and we cannot allow that."

Aya's cold blue eyes stared unblinkingly into his. "We are not here to attack the Realm. We gather to strike at Thorns, and remove the undead's foothold in this world."

The man laughed derisively at her. "Pretty words, my little blackbird, pretty words. But lies cannot deceive those with the blood of dragons in their veins."

Aya's eyes narrowed frigidly as her unblinking gaze bore into his. "Be careful with your words, as you are making no friends here by calling me a liar."

The man snarled as he looked down his nose toward her. "Mind your tone, Anathema, or I will strike you down where you stand! Even if you are correct and I am not, that you would strike at Thorns, you would be conspiring to commit an even more grievous crime other than being possessed by a demon Anathema. Peace talks and trade agreements have already begun with the undead there. The people of Thorns were weak, and the undead understood that. We do not begrudge them wanting to open lucrative trade agreements with the peoples of the world. In fact, the undead show kindness and concern for us, that they would establish a base within the world of the living, to save us the trip of having to go through Shadowlands to trade with them!"

Aya's jaw clenched and unclenched as she looked at him with narrowed eyes. "You are a fool if you believe that, and do not understand the threat the undead pose to everyone here. The Deathlords wish nothing less than for all life to be snuffed out like a candle, and you are even more of a fool if you do not see that."

To her surprise, the man laughed, and looked at her with a patient and sympathetic look. "Oh, I understand your inner turmoil, to put up with a demon Essence that slowly drives you mad, making you believe whatever it wishes before it claims you, mind and soul. It's not your fault you're being impertinent and delusional, and to the woman inside the Anathema I see before me, I say this - do not be afraid, for you will be saved soon."

Aya shook her head slightly. "I take that back. You're blind, your perceptions dulled by misconception as well as being a fool."

Electricity coursed over the man's armor as he drew his huge, shining blue jade sword. He stamped once on the ground with a shout, and a hugely powerful gust of wind blew back the soldiers that surrounded he and his Wyld Hunt soldiers. He regarded Aya with a cool gaze, as she hadn't moved in the slightest. He called to his soldiers loudly as he smiled. "I will strike the head of this serpentine evil. Once all of you see your leader fall, you will know you have been misled and lied to! Anathema, this shall be a duel between you and I!"

He rushed at her with blade outstretched, electricity coursing over his armor, his hair and body, and cracking with loud snaps at the end of his blade. He rushed nearer and nearer to her, closing the distance between them with alacrity. He smiled as he drew closer, seeing that she still hadn't moved in the slightest. He was within a few yards of her now, and saw her crouch slightly, putting her left hand on the handle of one of the blades at her side, and her other hand on the sheath of the same sword, but not drawing it yet.

The lightning coursing over him seemed to double in intensity right as he swung his huge blade at the woman who still regarded him coolly, without moving. Right as his blade was a bare yard away from slicing through her neck, sunlight seemed to fall directly onto her, making her black armor shine blindingly. In that instant, he realized that she had already begun moving. The abbreviated hiss of a blade leaving its sheath registered in his mind at the same time he realized that she was now behind him.

He narrowed his eyes as he bared his teeth in aggravation. What trickery did this Anathema think she was doing? He turned around to face her, seeing that she now had her back to him, and was cleaning blood from her blade with careful and loving precision before sheathing it, and crossing her arms. He was about to shout a retort to her, when he was interrupted by a clanking sound from his side. He looked down, seeing that half his chestplate had fallen from his chest. The inside of what remained of his chestplate began to feel slick, sticky, and warm, even as his anima froze the air around him into swirling ice crystals.

He felt as if he were moving downward, falling onto his back. He looked to his left, and saw the lower half of his body still standing there, stupidly unaware that the rest of him had fallen onto the ground. His anima began to stutter, dying away into a breeze around him. He was so surprised by this that he thought inanely that a stronger wind around him would be more fitting.

His vision was fading now, and he knew he had died at the hand of an Anathema. The thought filled him with rage, as he had been personally responsible for many Anathema's deaths. What surprised him is that he heard her voice again, though it sounded faint. "No lives should be lost over something so petty. I will heal your wound now."

He began to protest, but found that he hadn't the breath to speak. This thought horrified him more than anything else, as the wind had been a part of him for a very long time; sustaining and strengthening him.

He faintly heard the lower half of his body being moved, feeling warmth, and then heat moving slowly from his shoulder to his hip. He took an involuntary gasp, his lungs filling with air once more. He began to smile as he felt the breezes that always had been with him gaining strength once more.

A strong hand pulled him to his feet. He stood slightly unsteadily, but gained his balance after a moment. Upon opening his eyes, he saw the same woman, still looking calmly into his eyes as she released her grip on his hand.

He frowned as he looked at her with suspicion. "Anathema don't heal the wounds of those they kill without wishing to enslave them."

She didn't even blink at this. "Have you been killed and healed by an Anathema before this?"

He smiled as he answered. "No, but I..."

She interrupted him. "So you base your entire opinion on every other kind of Exalted human in the world is based on stories you've heard from people who've never tried speaking to them?"

He opened his mouth in surprise, taken aback by this. He spoke with indignation. "Those stories are based on the Immacula..."

She interrupted him once more. "In other words, yes, you base your entire opinion on all other Exalts in the world based on a book, propaganda, and rumors."

He glared at her with suspicion, even as he heard stifled snickers from further away. One thing he hated more than an Anathema was an Anathema almost as strong as himself. Or just lucky.

She continued after seeing him give his answer of silence. She spoke to both him and the members of his Wyld Hunt. "I ask not for your servitude, thoughtless obedience, or a life boon. What I ask is the same thing you must feel in your hearts when you think of the undead who even now fester within Thorns. They struck through the village, and slew many Immaculate soldiers who tried to unseat them. It must unnerve you that these same undead who slew your friends, family, and countrymen are now being courted by trade agreements and peace talks by those in power in the Immaculate Order."

She paused a moment, gaging their reaction. She continued after a moment. "I'm offering you the chance of moving past the Immaculate Order's family squabbles and movements for selfish gain, and simply doing what must be done, and far better sooner than later, when the undead have a much greater base of power. You know in your hearts that the undead living in the land of the living is a festering sore, and one that unless healed now, will spread throughout the world. I don't ask for you to serve me for the rest of your lives. I ask you to fight with us to remove the undead from Thorns, and return it to the hands of the living. Once Thorns is firmly within the hands of the living, you may depart with my blessing and my thanks."

The man with dark blue skin and white hair spoke up again, with a wintry smirk on his face. "And what of you? Will you rule Thorns, and expect us to let you get away with it?"

She turned toward him, and met his wintry gaze with a glacial one in response. "No. Once Thorns is liberated, this army will disperse, and settle Thorns if they wish, ruling it themselves. I will leave, wishing only to be left in peace, living alone with my fiancee."

The man raised a white eyebrow. "To see if I understand you correctly - you wish to have our help to liberate Thorns, and once this is done, you and everyone else will just go back to their lives as usual? And you personally will just...leave?"

She nodded once. "Correct."

The man chuckled. "So this army you've been training won't answer to you after the battle is over?"

She looked coolly, with unblinking eyes into his. "That is their decision, not mine. I will simply wish to live in peace, alone, with my fiancee, and have some semblance of a normal life. However, neither he nor I can rest until this is done."

The man inclined his head, long white hair falling onto his shoulders slightly. "I follow orders from my house, not an Anathema raising a ragtag army. I cannot allow you to style yourself as a savior, when all you wish is glory at the expense of those you lead! Strike them down!"

At his words, his soldiers set into motion, attacking whomever was nearest. The man himself rushed at Aya once more, feeling completely sure that the first time was blind luck of the damned.

To his surprise, she shook her head as he approached, and looked...somewhat sad. He brought his huge sword down, intent on cutting her in half lengthwise. She stepped nimbly to the side, forcing his blade down into the ground by pushing with her blade, before snapping upwards to strike him through the neck.

As his vision faded from his view on the ground, he saw that all of the soldiers under his command were meeting a similar fate. An Anathema had taken its true demon form as that of half-wolf, half man as it cleaved a soldier of his in half with its huge, wide-bladed silver blade. Another was being cut apart by three of the foolish soldiers in azure, gold, and steel armor.

"Oh powerful and Immortal Dragons, hear my plea," he thought as the sounds began to fade to nothingness. "If you hold us to be your emissaries, holding your blood within us to manifest within the worthy, show these heathens your anger!"

After his prayer, he knew no more.

Aya looked all around her, seeing the Wyld Hunt soldiers being slain in the efficient way she had taught. Tears filled her eyes as she looked upon the brave, though misguided Immaculate soldiers of the Wyld Hunt dying all around her. She could fight it no longer; she collapsed onto her knees on the ground, water filling her vision as she began to weep with deep, racking sobs.

Within moments, she felt arms around her, feeling comforting, soothing. She felt herself being lifted gently onto someone's lap. She felt Kale kissing her face gently, holding her comfortingly through her tears. She banished her armor with a thought as she began to relax, feeling slightly better through her tears. He slowly rubbed her back, neck, and shoulders; not saying any words, just letting her cry out her sadness and pain.

She began to speak through her tears after a moment, not thinking or caring what someone would think if they saw her. "Why...why didn't they listen? Why didn't they just leave in peace? He wouldn't go, even after I...I healed his wound. I didn't want to take any more lives...not ever again..."

His arms squeezed her gently and comfortingly as he held her. He spoke to her in a quiet, soothing voice. "Sometimes, there is no choice except between your life, and the life of someone who wishes to take yours. I know, sweetheart - I know you promised to never take another life. But you know what?"

Aya turned her head to look at him through her tears. She hiccuped slightly before answering semi-intelligibly with "Huh?"

Through her watery vision, she could see him smiling softly at her as he gently wiped away her tears. "As long as that's the only time, then that's not something to regret. It's something to be proud of, only taking a life when you must."

Aya snuggled a little closer to him, and wrapped her arms around him in return, leaning her head on his shoulder and closing her eyes with a shuddering sigh. She felt his warm hands gently rubbing her neck, her shoulders, and her back, making her feel calmer, and safe. She gave a great shuddering sigh as she began to relax, nuzzling gratefully into his neck. She took a few deep breaths to calm herself further, hugging Kale tightly before getting to her feet. With a slight smile, she looked at Kale who was still standing near her, a look of concern on her face. "By the grace of the Sun, you put up with a lot from me."

He smiled gently as he looked at her. "You're worth it."

Their moment was interrupted by Ken walking over to them, a look of askance on his grave face. "A general who weeps when they must take a life should question whether or not they're prepared to lead troops into battle."

Kale looked at him somewhat coldly. "And you're in a position to judge...how?"

Aya put a hand on his shoulder as she looked calmly at Ken. "It's alright. Ken, I took hundreds, perhaps thousands of lives when I was an uncaring, unfeeling weapon of my former Deathlord. When I became a Solar, I vowed to myself that I would never take another life after that. Having to do so...just brought back many bad memories of who I once was, ones I never wanted to relive."

Ken narrowed his eyes at her. "You were an Abyssal?"

Aya nodded, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath before opening her eyes to look into Ken's steadily. "I led the undead attack on Thorns, a little over a year ago. I lead this army against Thorns and my former Deathlord now to attempt making up in a small way for all the lives I've taken. I also go to destroy my former Deathlord, so nobody has to fall under his sway ever again."

Ken regarded her through narrowed eyes. "Once this battle is over, you and I will have a reckoning. You slew my younger brother when you took Thorns that night."

With that, he marched off toward the Dragon-Blooded mercenaries. He stopped after a few steps, and turned around to face her with a look of coldness on his face. "You'll only get to slay the Deathlord if you get to him first," he said, before turning back to the mercenaries, who were milling about aimlessly after the brief fight against the Immaculate Wyld Hunt.

Aya took a deep breath, shuddering slightly. Feeling Kale standing at her side, glaring at Ken as he walked away, she spoke. "I knew it had to happen eventually. That I would meet someone who lived through the terrible things I did, and who would demand retribution."

Kale didn't say anything, but put his arm around her waist. She looked at him with fierce determination in her eyes. "Now is the time," she said, before hugging him back tightly, and walking toward the soldiers, her armor fading into existence around her.

Aya began shouting out orders, and the soldiers began scrambling to follow. "Dress the dead Immaculates, balm them so they preserve somewhat well, and load them onto carts. We'll give them back to their people after we win the battle at Thorns. Make sure you are fully garbed for war, as we leave within one hour!"

Less than an hour later, all the troops; Alon-Ti and mercenary, were mounted on horseback in perfect formation. Kale, Morjin, and Gordray rode out of formation, as they would not be in the main attacking force, for varying reasons.

Aya called out in a loud voice that carried to everyone present. "We go now to cut out the undead infection from the world before it spreads! MOVE!"

The ground began to shake as nearly a thousand horses' hoofbeats drummed against it, making the afternoon air sound pregnant with thunder.


	54. The Darkness is Struck, and Strikes Back

"I'm tellin' ya _Nain-ya_ , I feel like a damn fool on this horse. The worst part is that the horse knows it!"

Kale chuckled as Golgol grumbled loudly. "Yeah, but it's the fastest way to move nearly a thousand troops toward Thorns."

Golgol grumbled to himself further as they galloped. Golgol's horse uttered a small whinny, which got his attention. He leaned further forward toward the horse's ears, and began speaking somewhat apologetically. Kale smirked to himself as he overheard the somewhat one-sided conversation. "Aye, I don't like this any more than you do, lass. You'd prefer to just be sitting in a stable and be brushed and fed, and I'd like to be running free. Dammit, it's not lookin' good for either of us."

Golgol paused for a moment. What made Kale smile the most was that the horse was seemingly listening to him grumble. "Tell ya what though. I'll take care of you in the battle, and I'll take ye for a bloody good gallop when it's all over with. You can go wherever you want. How does that sound?"

The horse, much to Kale's amusement, gave a short barking whinny, which made Golgol smile in satisfaction. "Yeah, if I were in your place, I don't think I'd like to be hauling around a human dressed as a trashbin either."

Kale couldn't resist asking, calling loudly over the thundering hoofbeats. "Hey Golgol!"

That got Golgol's attention away from patting his horse somewhat apologetically. "Yeah?"

Kale grinned as he asked. "When you and I left your forest, did you think you'd be riding on a horse, leading Alon-Ti that were your barbarians into this battle?"

Golgol glared at him, though Kale could tell he was amused. "Don't rub it in, _Nain-ya_."

They had been riding hard for the past several hours, on a route directly to Thorns. They hadn't stopped or slowed down at all since they left Mishaka mid-afternoon, but their rapid pace was beginning to wear on the horses and those riding them. However, Kale began to recognize familiar landmarks, which placed them within fifteen miles of the fallen town. The sun had just finished setting, casting a reddish-yellow glow over everything around them.

All of them heard Aya's soft voice next to their ears. "Slow down, and prepare to make camp."

Some of the mercenaries and a few of the barbarians, despite having gone through Alon-Ti training, were still disconcerted by Aya being able to speak to all of them at once, but they obeyed, slowing down.

Soon enough, they were gathered in large concentric circles, with Aya at the center. Kale could watch her lips move as she spoke, but all of them heard her voice as if she was standing right next to them. "We make camp here for tonight. Everyone, get yourselves ready for a night here. I want no fires tonight to advertise our presence. Golgol, organize sleeping and watch shifts, and be alert. We are now in enemy territory, and they undoubtedly have patrols during the night."

With that, she dismounted, and everyone else began following suit. Kale stretched, beginning to feel the life slowly and painfully come back to where he'd been sitting for the past several hours. He began filling a feedbag for the horse, and patted the chestnut mare as she began to eat, obviously not quite as tired as he was. He smirked ruefully at this.

Aya approached him, and gently put a hand on his arm, which got his attention. She smoothly put her arms around him, and leaned her head on his shoulder. He put his arms around her as well, and felt her take a slow, deep breath. She looked up solemnly into his eyes after a moment. "Beloved, I want to thank you."

Kale raised his eyebrows. "For what?"

She smiled somewhat tiredly at him. "For coming with me, and helping me through all that you have. You're placing yourself in danger a second time to keep an eye on me, and I love you for it."

Kale adopted an innocently injured expression. "Whatever makes you think I'm here just to keep an eye on you? I have as much at stake here as you do, you know."

She smiled widely at him. "Beloved, you keep forgetting I can read you like an open book."

Kale chuckled at this. "Yeah, yeah," he said as their lips met in a soft kiss. He looked in her eyes as their faces pulled away slowly, and saw the unspoken question dancing in her eyes, as she was uncertain how to ask.

He raised an eyebrow, as a look of amusement spread over his face. "You want me to scout the city, don't you?"

Aya's eyes widened. She inhaled sharply as her mouth fell open slightly. "How did you..."

He silenced her with a kiss, grinning as he replied. "Love, you keep forgetting I can read you like an open book."

She rolled her eyes, but smiled back at him. "Be safe, alright?"

He kissed her again, which she eagerly returned. "Don't worry, I'll be back before dinner's done."

They somewhat reluctantly let go of one another. She looked apologetic, but he just grinned somewhat recklessly at her. "Make sure you put two pillows on my side of the bed, okay?"

She smirked at him, watching as the night seemed to envelop him in its dark embrace.

Despite his somewhat reckless grin, Kale was taking no chances. He quietly invoked all the charms and rotes he knew to stifle his presence from the notice of others, banishing his scent, hiding his tracks, and even invoking a rote that helped him blend in chameleon-like with his surroundings.

He ran swiftly and with perfect silence toward the dark walled city, the gem Thamaya's Blessing shining softly beneath the sleeve of his coat.

Kale felt sickened as he neared the gates. The huge beast Juggernaut was resting on its apallingly gigantic chest, near the town itself. The great humanoid beast seemed quiescent for now, but Kale's senses told him that there were...things within the great beast that certainly weren't. He decided to not take a closer look just yet.

The wraiths and wraiths possessing undead bodies were very much in evidence as guards at all four of the gates, as well as the walls. However, they never saw a mobile piece of the night air slip past them.

Guards at the walls, the many wraiths and undead within the city nearly overwhelmed Kale's senses. Even though he could see the wraiths, he still wished he couldn't somewhat. Intellectually, he knew they were once alive, and once human, though very few of them reflected this fact in their forms now.

Even so, Kale crept silently and swiftly through the city, marking weapons stockpiles, guard watches, and the people in charge. There seemed to be only two Abyssals within the city now keeping an eye on things, though he felt that might swiftly change if the city was attacked. The city itself was surrounded by the Shadowland, charged and fueled by the many deaths in this place the year before.

One of the Abyssals was a tall man with long, shock white hair. He was a grim man, wearing armor of soulsteel and bone, and carrying a strange sword at his side. He seemed to be in charge of things, for the wraiths and other undead bowed to him, following his clipped orders with haste.

The other Abyssal was a child. A little girl, probably eight to ten years old. At first, Kale thought she was a wraith, but for the Oblivion seething within her like a storm, straining to break out of her skin. He shook his head at the sight. She was wearing a simple girl's dress, and for all the world looked like a normal, if pale, little girl.

Kale's jaw tightened at the sight. The undead evidently didn't care for appearances much, as they didn't laugh or make jokes as she coldly ordered them to do her bidding in her tiny child's voice. However, Kale guessed that the Mask of Winters was expecting retaliation against the town, because it would take a very special breed of soldier indeed who would be willing to strike down a child, Abyssal though she was. He understood this intellectually, but the thought still made him sick.

His stomach turned as the girl's Caste Mark flared into existence like a carefully-created burn as she screamed coldly at a wraith who didn't do her bidding fast enough. It was the same mark Aya had. That of the Dusk Caste, which meant she was highly trained for battle. Kale shook his head in silence. This would be an ugly fight, but then again, he expected nothing less from a being willing and eager to kill thousands to supplant and shape his own army.

Kale crept like a soft breeze through all the rooms and places within the town, mentally marking what was kept where. He didn't understand what all the dead were doing in this place, or what all the objects in certain rooms were, but he knew Aya would.

Kale heard the little girl's cold voice once more. "I scent the living. Scour this place."

He prevented himself from grinding his teeth with great effort. He was within one of the rooms on the upper level, and heard her little voice from the courtyard below. He smiled grimly, as he remembered that his tiger claws had more uses than just fighting. He slipped them on his hands with the bladed ends pointing outwards from his palms, and silently climbed out the window, and up onto the roof. Still hidden, he looked all around him for guards and such that might cause problems.

Seeing none, he smiled grimly to himself in satisfaction, leaping silently from the roof of this building to one nearer one of the wallgates. He quickly climbed down, and climbed the wall. The skeleton possessed by a wraith didn't even detect anything amiss as it looked around. Kale froze in place however, just to make sure the thing didn't detect him.

The wraith turned its gaze away from his direction without lingering, and Kale climbed down the wall on the outside of the town, dropping soundlessly onto the ground below. He redoubled the rote that cloaked any sound or scent he made, and darted in a very meandering fashion back to the encampment, just in case something he hadn't seen was following his movement.

He looked all around and above him with scrutiny as he was halfway to the encampment. Satisfied that nothing and nobody had seen him leave, he dropped the rotes he was using as he approached one of the Alon-Ti guards. She blinked as he approached, seemingly out of thin air, and nodded to him as he passed. He nodded in return, somewhat surprised at her grimness. Then again, they were on the eve of a battle.

Soon enough, he found Aya, sitting cross-legged, meditating in the night air. He sat down soundlessly in front of her, and stared intently on her closed eyelids, hiding a smile.

Within a few moments, some sixth sense told her she was being watched, and she opened her eyes. She widened her eyes, startled, as she saw him looking back at her with a grin.

Aya rolled her eyes at him, smiling at him while shaking her head. "Find anything interesting, my beloved sneak?"

Kale chuckled quietly. He told her everything he'd seen with great detail, including the Abyssal child. She nodded grimly at most parts, but even she was surprised at the news of the Abyssal girl. "She was of the Dusk Caste? Are you sure?"

Kale nodded grimly. "I saw her Mark. She flared it at some poor wraith who didn't ask her 'How high?' when she told him to jump."

Aya shook her head. "We shouldn't underestimate her. If she's a Dusk Caste, then that makes her very dangerous. Her form of a child is meant to throw a person's judgement off, though..."

She swallowed as she closed her eyes. "...that's more than a little sick, even for Him."

Kale nodded as he lay down, looking at the myriad constellations above. Seeing them always made him feel more relaxed, for some reason. He felt Aya lay down next to him, resting her head on his shoulder, looking at him. "You said she smelled you?"

Kale nodded as best he could, since he was on his back, looking up. "Yeah. She said she scented the living, and ordered the wraiths to patrol."

Aya sighed softly, tickling his ear somewhat. "This could be bad. If they're competent, more soldiers will come during the night to fortify the town, and do patrols outside."

He rolled his eyes. "Oh, grand. Are we safe here, do you think?"

Aya sat up, looking concerned. "No. Not if they send patrols. If I were in charge of the town, then this army here wouldn't escape my notice."

Kale sat up as well, Aya's concern making him feel a bit jumpy as well. "Okay then, so what should we do?"

She smiled ruefully, as she looked upward to the constellations above. "What they don't and wouldn't expect - to attack tonight."

Kale's eyes widened slightly. "You can't be serious!"

She looked at him gravely. "In warfare, the spies and sneaking come before the attack, and it normally takes the person in charge a day or so to process what the spies tell them to formulate a proper approach to battle. They know this as well as I do."

Aya smiled widely, her eyes gleaming. "Despite being at their best during the night, they'd never expect it. If that child Abyssal is in charge, then she'd send a wraith or two to report to Him, and he'd think it over for a few hours, as he normally does. He'd start sending out Abyssal patrols an hour or so from daybreak, and not gather any other forces."

Kale smirked, her enthusiasm beginning to affect him. "Think the troops are ready, my gorgeous general?"

Aya smiled softly at him before kissing him on the nose. "Oh yes, my handsome spy. Most of them are still quite awake, unable to sleep."

She looked into his eyes a few moments more with a soft smile before jumping suddenly to her feet, and began quietly speaking her orders. Kale knew that with the rote she was using to do it, everyone in the army would hear it clearly, unless she wished to only speak to a single unit.

"Everyone, gear up. There's been a change of plans, for we attack tonight. Be ready in fifteen minutes."

Kale expected to hear muted grumbling, but surprisingly, he heard none. What surprised him more is that the attitude of most of the Alon-Ti was that of relief that they were beginning this war now, and not later.

Ten minutes later, everyone was ready, and sitting atop their horses. Aya's next orders began softly making themselves heard.

"Gordray, take fifty soldiers for protection, and shut down the Juggernaut. Do it the same way you purged me a year ago. Be careful, as there are at least fifteen puppeteer wraiths within it that give it some semblance of life. Banish them, and the great beast is nothing more than a large lump of very dead flesh."

Gordray nodded, and fifty soldiers, mostly Alon-Ti with a few mercenaries encircled him, but they didn't depart yet.

"Ken, take your regiment and make a wide circle around to face the West wallgate. Wait for my word before you strike, as all four wallgates must be struck at once."

Ken nodded grimly. It was obvious from his bearing that he didn't like Aya now that he knew who she once was, but he still saw the necessity of a swift, decisive strike. He moved his regiment out, and they galloped off, far enough away to not be visible to a casual look from the walls of Thorns.

"Golgol, take your regiment, and approach the North wallgate. Again, make a wide circuit so that you aren't seen until it's too late for them to do much about it."

Golgol grinned savagely. "About time!" he said, with more than a hint of a wolvish growl in his voice. He and his regiment of Alon-Ti rode off swiftly, making the same wide circuit movement Ken had, but going a different direction.

"Ophelia, take your troops, and take the South wallgate. Wait for my signal before you charge."

Ophelia nodded, encasing her reddish-brown hair beneath her helmet as she signalled wordlessly to her regiment to begin riding. They did so, moving swiftly into position.

Aya turned to Kale, looking grim. "Dearest, I want you to go on foot behind my regiment, and raise as much hell as you possibly can without being seen. Just be careful, okay?"

Kale grinned at her. "And take the chance of not seeing your beautiful face when I wake up? Not a chance!"

He chuckled, even as he seemed to melt into the night air. Aya took a deep breath to get herself back into her calculating general's mindset, summoned her armor and the brilliant katana Crissaegrim, forged with the souls of the seven bravest generals that had fought and died under Melek's banner. She hopped on her horse, and spoke to the remaining regiment, that she would use to charge the main gate. Her unit was the one she wanted all the town's defenses focused upon, throwing the defenders into disarray as they were struck from the other three sides immediately afterward.

She smiled grimly to herself. She was planning this much more meticulously than the first time she attacked this town, but she didn't care as much for her own life or anyone under her command that time. She also didn't have as much at stake.

Taking a deep breath, she softly spoke the order her regiment was waiting to hear. "We strike the East wallgate. Move out!"

She led her forces in a wide circuit around, and toward the main wallgate. They paused for a moment, looking at the dark town, seemingly surrounded in a sea of shadows. They didn't get much time to reflect upon the sight, as her order of "Charge!" rang in their ears, spurring their horses into a swift gallop.

As they neared halfway to the gate, Aya rapped out the orders for the other units. "Golgol, Ophelia, and Ken, charge your wallgates! Gordray, take your unit and wait for one of the units to gain entrance to the town. When we do, go exorcise the wraiths within the Juggernaut."

Aya closed her eyes as she galloped, seeing the units moving as if from the point of view of one in the sky high above, looking down. She smiled grimly as she saw the forces beginning to charge at high speeds toward the wallgates.

She began concentrating, channelling her essence into the rotes she had learned from Melek's tutelage. She had to draw some of the living essence from the ground and air around her, which made her Caste Mark light up like a brilliant sun on her forehead, shining softly. She felt each one begin to take effect, making her smile in satisfaction. She began to shine sunlight from her black armor, as if the sun shone upon her from high above.

Aya gritted her teeth as she channeled a little more essence into her horse, imagining her stallion's hooves taking on the hardness and strength of steel, and the muscles behind the hooves strong enough to knock down a door, such as the one they were rapidly approaching.

She spurred her horse to leap right as they neared the wallgate, crashing into it, and breaking it into splinters. Her horse righted himself, and her battalion began sweeping through the town. Barely a few seconds later, another echoing boom was heard as Golgol crashed through the North wallgate, howling his battlecry strongly to the dark night sky as he assumed his hybrid war form, towering above those around him.

Aya led her battalion toward the first group of surprised but armed undead, unsheathing both her swords. They seemed to glint with sunlight as they were exposed to the night air. The first possessed undead she struck exploded into ash as the blade struck. It was not the last.

Quickly, she saw the first Abyssal Kale had told her about. He had long, white hair, and armor made of bone and soulsteel, carrying a very strange and pared-down sword. He appeared to be herding the wraiths into some semblance of order to mount a counterattack. Aya saw little things about how he moved, how he spoke, and how he ordered the undead around. His voice and body might be different, but she recognized him with a grim smile.

"Hello again, Doom."

He spun to look at her, not recognizing her at first. Then his eyes widened slightly, as that memory he had of her replayed in his mind.

" _I'll be watching for you, Doom. If you try coming after me in your next incarnation, not only will I take your head then, I'll stuff and mount it in a special shrine I'll build specifically for this purpose. After that, I'll hunt you down in each and every lifetime you incarnate into, and after beating you unconscious, I'll drag your unconscious form to that shrine to show you how many times I've killed you once you wake, and telling you that the number of skulls in that shrine is about to increase by one before I take your head. I'll continue doing this for as long as I live, and keep doing it into my next lifetime as well._ "

Aya smiled at him, seeing the recognition light up within his widening eyes. "Leave now, Doom. Don't come back."

Without a single word, he turned on his heel, and began marching out of the town.

The four battalions swept through the town with brutal efficiency. The wraiths were at home here, immune to physical attacks, but were torn apart from Golgol, Ophelia, and Aya's strikes that could strike at the incorporeal beings.

Aya dismounted once the way was immediately cleared, and ordered a few soldiers from each battalion to lead the horses to the stables that still stood within this town.

Even as the battle still raged here and there within the town, the fighting for the most part was over with surprisingly quickly.

"Hello, _mother_."

Aya spun around to behold the child standing a few yards from her. She had greying black hair, pale skin, and wearing a simple girl's dress. Her eyes were a deep black, her face nothing but a cold mask of hatred.

"I can see your surprise, _mother_. My father, the Mask of Winters sired me that night he took you, and removed your impregnated egg from your womb the next night as you slept."

Aya's eyes widened. How was this possible? She was utterly at a loss for words. The child, however, was not. She drew a long, serrated soulsteel dagger, that in her hands was a sword.

"I regret, mother, that I didn't get the chance to be born from your womb the normal way. I might have killed you as I entered the world, knowing what I know of you now," she said disdainfully. "My father told me of your failure, of your kidnapping by an interfering Solar from getting the justice you deserved, and dying soon afterwards. I'm sorry, mother, that he was wrong to think you had died."

The child's Caste Mark flared into existence on her forehead, a black sun with twelve evenly distributed spokes that bled slightly as her anima appeared with sheets of ghostly flue flame, and coalescing shadows.

"However, mother, now I get to do what I've longed to do since I was old enough to hate you with every ounce of my being. You left me alone to be raised without you. My father raised me as best he could, since my frightened and cowardly mother left."

Aya found her voice at last. "I never even knew about you. He never told me!"

The child's face seemed to scowl even more coldly. "Lies will not save you now, _mother_. Deception will avail you not, _mother_. Your blind luck won't save you now, _mother_. My father told me what you would have become if you had stayed as you should have. You would have been someone I'd be proud have as a parent, but you left your destiny like a coward, _**mother**_!"

Aya narrowed her eyes slightly, even as she was attacked from behind from a few clever possessed undead who saw that she was preoccupied. However, the rotes she had cast would not allow her to be surprised or struck; her reflexes blocking their attacks and striking the undead that attacked her, forcing them to explode into ash almost before she was aware she had done so. She turned back to regard who she now knew was daughter.

"I'm glad you know how to defend yourself still, mother. I'd hate for the minions under my control to get the pleasure I've been longing for, hoping for, and pleading with the Malfeans for since I was old enough to despise you with all my being, mother."

Aya was still shocked by this child. Kale had told her that there was an Abyssal child here, but to find that she was...

"You are a traitor," the child said with a grim smile. "You fled your destiny, your master, and your daughter like a coward. And now you shall die by my hand, _mother_!"

The child seemed to float toward her with impossible alacrity, striking like a hungry snake with the black soulsteel dagger in her small hands. Aya parried it expertly, and was about to counterattack when her instincts would not allow her to strike this child.

The girl saw this, and smiled frigidly. "Yes, mother. You're too weak to strike your own child, aren't you?"

The small girl was now wrapped in shadows, hovering about a foot off the ground to bring she and Aya nearly at eye-level with one another. "Die the death of a failure, mother!"

The child drew another long, serrated dagger, holding one in each small hand as she looked at Aya with undisguised hatred. "I'm going to slice all the tendons in your arms and legs. Then I'm going to drink all your blood from your helpless and ruined body. I'm going to take your soul, and consume it so that your wretched failure won't torture my poor father!"

She struck again like a snake made of shadow, and Aya desperately parried the swift, brutal attacks, her long-bladed katana proving to be a hindrance at parrying the short, swift daggers. The child seemed to smile a little more widely each time Aya barely parried one of her attacks, as ice blue eyes stared with shock into glittering night black eyes.

Aya began to feel her essence draining away, little by little, as one of the child's daggers found their way through her defenses to strike at her flesh. The child didn't always get through Aya's desperate parries and dodges, but often enough that Aya was beginning to feel blood dripping from her arms and chest, her essence being consumed through the soulsteel daggers the child wielded.

To Aya's surprise, she began to hear the voices within her blade speaking into her mind. The first was the deep, gravelly, and growling voice of Vashok, the huge scaled Dragon King. "Do not be deceived by this Child of the Abyss. Of your blood, she might be. Of your soul, she is not!"

The next was the calm, thoughtful voice of Uon, the Earth-Aspected martial artist. His even-cadenced voice had a calming effect on Aya as he spoke. "The child preys upon your instincts. Allow her to do this, and you will fall. Center your being, Aya. Release all the minds you think with, to have no mind. Allow your soul to guide you, letting your mind go."

Aya refocused her attention on the child at hand, who was still attacking furiously even as her body responded automatically to parry each strike. She felt a sense of peace steal over her soul, as she let go of her fear, her loathing of this terrible being before her with the body of her daughter.

She noted dispassionately that the child's eyes widened slightly as she began to counterattack, forcing the child on the defensive. Each powerfully precise strike from Aya knocked the child's arms back, seeking her neck.

The child made a single parry in a way that gave Aya an opening. As her short sword parried another vicious strike from the child's daggers, the Crissaegrim slashed through the child, sunlight glinting from the blade burning as it sliced.

The child fell, looking up at Aya with the frightened eyes of a child, but the voice of Oblivion seemed to speak for her. "How could you do this to your own daughter, mother?"

Aya's reply was cold. "You are not my daughter."

She shivered as she watched the child slowly melt into ash before her eyes. Golgol trotted up to her then in his huge hybrid form, ash still falling from his huge moonsilver cleaver. He chuckled deeply. "That was far too easy!"

Aya shook her head as she focused her attention on the present. She spoke to Golgol, but in the way to allow all the troops present to hear her words. "This is only the beginning. This was his occupying force, his main army still lies within the Underworld, and rest assured, they will not let this go unchallenged."

She focused her attention on Gordray. She saw a glimpse of him with hands outstretched to the sky, standing before the gargantuan Juggernaut as he concentrated on expelling the puppeteer wraiths animating the huge being. "Golgol, take your battalion and defend Gordray, as he will be one of the first to be attacked!"

Golgol grinned ferally at her. "Oh good, that means I get to have my fun!"


	55. Blood Ties Unto War

All the town was quiet now. The huge Juggernaut was still visible over the town's walls, despite laying on its stomach, though it hadn't moved. The Alon-Ti were patrolling quietly.

Then Aya began to hear the child's laughter once more. It started softly, but began echoing all around her. It wasn't the laughter of a happy child. It was the malicious laughter of a child who pulled the wings from flies, and worse.

Aya looked around her wildly, and chanced a look down to the ash that had once been the child. Aya's eyes widened as she saw the child' face had appeared, shaped in the pile of ash. The face seemed to laugh more loudly, and then look fixedly at Aya. Despite being formed of ash, the face seemed to leer cruelly at her as it spoke in a dry voice. "You didn't think it would be that simple, did you mother?"

A whirlwind formed around the ash, pulling all of it whirling into the air. The face remained fixed in the center of the whirling ash devil, glaring and smiling evilly at her. "Striking at those of the shadows and darkness only makes them hate you more, _mother_!"

The whirling ash began to shrink in size, coalescing back into the shape of the little girl. Soon, her eyes were visible, then her hair, and soon it was as if she had never been struck. She glared with a cruel smile. "You made things so much easier for us, mother. I thank Oblivion that I got my intelligence from my father's side, since your ignorance and stupidity is shocking."

As the girl spoke, Aya began to notice a low, quiet rumbling all around her. She returned her attention back to the girl, who had drawn her daggers once more. "You are a fool, mother. I am of Oblivion. The Abyss wraps me in its arms, kisses me, and gives me my anger. You gave all that up like an utter fool, mother." The child smiled cruelly. "I cannot be slain - however, due to your stupid rebellion against your own destiny, you gave that up, and I have all the time in the world to wait for you to make a mistake."

The child's voice reached a shrieking, piercing intensity, even as the low rumbling sound from all around them grew louder. "You will die mother, and you will die by the hand of your own daughter!"

The rumbling grew even louder. The walls of the city began to shake, dust and mortar falling from the stones.

Another voice was heard from behind Aya. "Isn't this just so cozy, dear? All three generations of one family, all women, and all have been Exalted."

Aya darted back, to keep the newcomer and the child both within her field of vision at once. Her heart sank as she recognized the speaker before she had even seen her face. It was Kaesta.

She wore what seemed to be a black evening gown, though Aya's eyes could pick out the soulsteel plates within the garment. Kaesta's long, black hair had highlights the color of blood as it coursed down her back, seeming to lay like a well-fed snake over her shoulder. She smiled with lips painted the color of blood as she stared at Aya maternally. She sighed slightly as she shook her head. "If only you hadn't run away from your destiny, my dear. Then all three generations would be together, working toward the same goal. Why did you have to be the difficult one?"

The little girl put out her lower lip in a pout. "She cut me, and tried to kill me, Grandma!"

Kaesta shook her head, frowning with sympathy. "Aww, my poor dear. Come here, my poppet, and let Grandma see if you're alright."

The girl ran over to Kaesta, and leapt into her arms. Kaesta held her maternally, smiling as she did so. "My sweet grand-daughter, what a wonderful girl you are."

Aya felt her stomach turn at the sight. Her grip tightened on her short sword and on the Crissaegrim as she stood, watching the horrifyingly normal spectacle.

Kaesta looked at Aya, smiling slightly as she held the child in her arms. She spoke after a moment to the child. "Don't worry, my poppet. I must have made a lot of mistakes for your mother to turn out the way she did. She was always a headstrong girl, but even so, I blame myself for who she is now. I won't be making those mistakes with you, my little poppet."

The child looked at Aya, smiling coldly, almost gloatingly before turning to look up at Kaesta with wide, innocent eyes. "Does that mean my mommy is a failure?"

The low rumbling began to shake the loose stones from the walls. Aya caught a brief glimpse in her mind's eye of skeletons with their bones encased in soulsteel emerging by the hundreds, perhaps even thousands from the shadowland surrounding Thorns, and rushing at everything human with alarming speed. She couldn't see their eyes from the angle she was seeing, but the skeletons were making gleeful clicking noises as they scented the living, their hunger growing with each stride.

Kaesta's voice interrupted her brief vision. "Yes, my little one. She turned her back on her family, on her master, on you, and on Grandma too!"

Both girl and woman looked at Aya simultaneously, and smiled. Fangs grew quietly from beneath their upper lips as they smiled evilly at Aya. The girl spoke first, with a lower, slightly echoing voice. "Grandma, does that mean mommy shames her family by her very existence?"

Kaesta smiled more widely, her elongated fangs now more evident. "Yes it does, my poppet. Doesn't it seem fitting that family should take care of family problems?"

With that, the girl leapt lightly from Kaesta's arms, and drew her long, serrated soulsteel daggers. She glared at Aya as she licked both blades, blood coating each blade as she sliced her tongue open with them before speaking. "I named these knives in honor of you, mother. I named them Whisper and Scream, for the last things you will ever hear or do before you die."

Kaesta slipped black gloves on her pale hands. Each of the fingers of the gloves had a long, thin, soulsteel blade attached to it. "Don't worry, poppet. Grandma will help. Remember to aim for the spine and the kidneys first, dear."

With a start, Aya realized what they were doing - they were distracting her from the battle that even now raged all around them. She clenched her teeth in anger at herself for forgetting her troops, and swiftly looked all around her. A tower was only a short distance behind her, one that would allow her to learn the status of the battle uninterrupted. However, from the looks on the faces of her daughter and mother, they wouldn't give her much time.

Aya ducked down into a crouch as she sheathed both blades smoothly, and jumped into the air as strongly as she possibly could. The wind rushed past her face as she rapidly ascended, beginning to fall right as she saw the top of the tower. She grabbed the stone sides of the tower, and pulled herself up and over the battlement. She swiftly looked all around her, checking for anyone else, and was satisfied when she saw none. A quick look down however, showed that her mother and her daughter were beginning to climb the tower rapidly.

Grinding her teeth, she closed her eyes and concentrated on the battle. There, Golgol was defending Gordray and his guard tenaciously and well, and seemed to be suffering no losses so far. Ken's regiment was breaking down the skeletons one by one, and had only suffered the loss of but one or two soldiers. Ophelia's regiment was in trouble, being attacked by a group of skeletons that vastly outnumbered them. Several Alon-Ti had given their lives. They were attacking the skeletons with the fury of wounded tigers, but a wounded tiger attacks with desperation.

She focused her attention back on Ken's battalion, even as the sound of scrabbling claws on stone grew closer. "Ken, when you are finished with those skeletons, help Ophelia's regiment. They're under heavy attack."

Aya took a small sigh of relief as Ken nodded, and his troops began striking their way back to the other side of the town to help Ophelia's group, now vastly outnumbered. She clenched her teeth in irritation as she saw more skeletons pouring en masse out of the shadowland.

Bolts of whitish yellow began striking the skeletons, turning small groups of them to ash as Morjin fired coruscating bolts from his hands, but it was barely slowing down the oncoming tide. Her heart sank as she saw the Abyssal she had known was the incarnation of Laughing Doom riding out of the shadowland on a warstrider, leading a large pack of huge, feral dogs made of bone and soulsteel.

Aya clenched her jaw once more. She needed to be out there, fighting for and with them. She opened her eyes as she heard the sound of scrabbling claws getting much closer. She needed to take care of her family problems first.

She ran to the side of the tower, unsheathing her swords as she ran. She leapt from the side of the tall tower, her arms spread to her sides, the long-bladed swords in her hands resembling wings as she began to drop. The child and Kaesta looked up with surprise to see Aya bearing down on them in midair like a hungry shadow.

Aya struck them both as she swept by them, forcing them to fly backwards toward the ground with her. All three of them picked up speed. Kaesta and the child trying desperately to grab onto the stones of the tower, but Aya's momentum was carrying them further and further away from it, and toward the ground with alarming speed.

Right before the impact, Aya channeled her essence to course through her skin and bones, hardening them to the point where the impact wouldn't hurt her. All three hit the ground with a shuddering boom, the mortar and cement beneath them shattered into a crater. She leapt lightly away from them, putting herself in a position where she could see the battle, and also keep an eye on her mother and her child, who were slowly and painfully getting to their feet.

The child screamed at her. "How dare you fight against your destiny! How _dare_ you try to resist against the inevitable!"

The child bent down into a crouch. There was a muffled tearing sound, causing the child to wince in pain. Two long soulsteel blades tore through the back of her dress, elongating and curving as they moved to stand straight out of her back, angling slightly to the side.

More blades followed, numbering seven on each side of her back as they quickly sprouted with a spray of blood from the child's back, stretching and elongating to resemble long, bladed wings. The child looked at Aya, her whole eyes completely swirling black now as she smiled hungrily. She rose into the air, the coalescing shadows lifting her as they swirled.

The child screamed once more, as she seemed to move into a crouch in midair. "I will rend the flesh from your bones, mother!"

Without warning, the child's head snapped forward with a muffled crunch, a look of shock on her face as she crumpled to the ground. Kale stepped out from behind her, the night-time air seeming to release him from its embrace only reluctantly. He had a cold scowl on his face as he looked at the girl on the ground. "Little bitches should be seen, and not heard."

Aya smiled at him gratefully. Her eyes widened as she saw Kaesta rush at him with her clawed hands outstretched. She was about to shout a warning, but Kale was already out of the way, his arm cocked back right before he punched her in the side of the head, causing her to fall onto her side, stunned, and bleeding.

Aya smiled at him again, and saw him grin at her in return, blowing her a kiss before fading back into the shadows. She was able to barely perceive him running at high speed toward another Abyssal leading a large battalion of skeletons.

As she returned her attention to the child and Kaesta, she saw the child was lying on the ground unmoving, but Kaesta was slowly getting to her feet, looking around for the man who had struck her. Not finding him, she glared at Aya, speaking as she advanced slowly, her hips swaying from side to side as she walked. "You fight a futile and foolish fight, my errant and wayward daughter. You should have let the Malfean cleanse and strengthen you as it wished."

Aya glared back at her. She had quite a bit of time to think over what had happened during her childhood, and about how her mother had acted. She was still angry at her mother for what she did, though she understood her mother's reasons now. "Mother, you blamed yourself for father's death, thinking there was something you could have done. You stopped caring as I entered my teenage years, just waiting and hoping to die for what you thought was your crime, when you never committed any. When you got the Black Exaltation, you looked at it as a new start, doing and being who you always wanted to be, revelling in your new name and new life, and looking at who you were and the people you cared about as nothing more than a burden at best. Even I reminded you of what had happened that night on the shadowland path."

Kaesta stopped in mid-stride as Aya began speaking, and now looked at Aya, shocked. Aya kept speaking, feeling sure of herself now. "I never stopped loving you, mother. Even when you began acting like a teenager hitting her sex drive for the first time, I hated you then - but that was because I was so angry at you, not understanding how you could do that to Father's memory. I've grown older since then, and I understand now. Don't think you deserve to live surrounded by death and despair just because you think you deserve it."

Kaesta just stared at Aya, having expected anything except what she had just done. Hearing those words from her daughter; not words of anger, but of sympathy and understanding; these cut her soul to the bone. She opened her mouth a few times and closed it, trying to find the words. "I...I didn't..."

She was interrupted as seven long soulsteel blades pierced her chest, and lifted her into the air. She was flung with savage force into a wall, hitting the mortar and stone with sickening force. The child glared at her with eyes of swirling shadow. "She LIES, Kaesta! You are too weak to see it!"

With that, she moved her feral, shadowy gaze toward Aya, grinning cruelly. "Do you know my name, mother? I'll tell you now, before I have the indescribable pleasure of eating your flesh, your mind, and then your soul. My name is Nemilette, as I was named as a Nemesis of all that foolishly tries to cling to life! I tell you this so my name will be the last thing to go through your foolish mind before I consume you utterly."

She spread her arms outward to her sides, her fingers hardening and darkening to become blades of soulsteel. The long, black blades on her back began dripping with ichor, which ate into the ground almost gleefully as it fell. "Now, rebellious mother, the time for talking is long over!"

Nemilette rushed at Aya, closing the distance with alarming speed. Aya began to glow, sunlight coruscating all over her body and armor. Her blades began glinting strongly with the bright light, causing Nemilette to flinch at the sight, even as she kept coming with clawed hands outstretched.

Aya spun swiftly out of the way at the last second, striking upward to strike the child across the neck. Nemilette ducked, but too late; the Crissaegrim skimmed over the top of her head, scalping her. Nemilette smiled at Aya, as soulsteel spurs sprouted from the blood collecting on her head to replace the hair that had been lost.

Nemilette pounced with a piercing scream at Aya, who darted to the side swiftly, striking the blades at her back strongly enough to knock Nemilette off-balance. The shadows lifted her in the air once more, continuing to spin as she rushed at Aya once more, darting to the side with impossible speed.

Aya began to feel blood coursing down her chest from the seven deep cuts, her armor shorn completely through. She felt the ichor eating its way into her chest, feeling with sickening certainty that this was the ichor that had nearly claimed her life twice now. Even as she noticed this, she struck upwards with the short sword, the blade making a sizzling noise as it chopped through the child's forearm.

The blood coursing out of the child's arm coalesced into a long soulsteel spike as she flew upwards, soaring into the night in a circle to dive back down at Aya. She stood in place as Nemilette dove at her, ducking at the last moment to strike viciously upwards with the Crissaegrim. For a split second, Aya saw a tall, grim blue-skinned man with short white hair wielding a blue jade sword standing a few feet away from her, striking savagely at Nemilette as Aya's strike hit. A huge gust of wind forced the child to fly out of control and into a wall, the mortar and stone being shaken loose by the impact.

The man looked at Aya and winked with a small smile, before fading into a blue dust and being swallowed within the Crissaegrim once more. She heard the Air-Aspected general Tauron's voice in her mind. " _Keep fighting as you do Aya, and we within the Crissaegrim will always watch out for you._ "

Aya smiled slightly even as Nemilette got up out of the rubble. She glared at Aya, and screamed primally as she was buoyed aloft by the shadows once more, rushing at Aya like a striking snake as the distance between them shrunk with alarming speed. Even as Aya was unable to get completely parry the attack, the child's blades and ichor biting deeply into her side, Aya swung the Crissaegrim and her short sword around and through the child's neck in opposite directions.

Nemilette's wings tore through Aya's stomach even as her head flew from her body. Aya gritted her teeth against the pain, and stabbed upward to impale the child's head on her short sword. To her horror, the child's eyes opened, and glared at Aya as Nemilette smiled evilly. She opened her mouth, and to Aya's horror, the child's teeth blackened and elongated out of her mouth, becoming long snakes of soulsteel, which lanced out and bit deeply into her arm. Aya began to feel dizzy and weaker as her essence was beginning to be consumed.

She looked around wildly, and saw the child's unmoving body. Struck with a sudden thought, she ran to Nemilette's body, spun the Crissaegrim around to face point down over Nemilette's body, and slammed the blade downwards with all the strength she could muster toward the child's heart. She felt a strong resistance, knowing that the child had changed her ribcage into soulsteel as well. Even so, the blade pierced the chest, and went straight into the ground below.

Nemilette's head, still impaled on the shorter of her two swords, opened her eyes wide in shock, emitting a soundless scream. The snakes made of soulsteel shuddered, and began spinning wildly, tearing loose from her arm with a spray of blood. Her body began to shudder, twitching uncontrollably on the ground, even around the sword through her heart. After a few seconds, the child's eyes closed, her body becoming still once more.

Aya collapsed onto her knees, her adrenaline draining away, allowing her to feel the pain of so many deep cuts, and the ichor fighting her body's attempts to heal itself. She panted with exertion and the pain for a few moments, and forced herself to her feet.

To her surprise, a pair of warm hands helped her gently to her feet. She looked up warily, only to see Morjin looking at her, concerned. "By Sol's grace, Aya. What happened?"

Aya smirked slightly, Kale's tendancy to throw wisecracks wearing off onto her. "Family squabble."

Morjin smiled warmly at her in return, and looked down at the child's head, still impaled on her short sword, and shaking his head. "Remove your blade from that...thing's head, and clean your blades if you wish. It'll take me a few moments to heal your wounds."

Aya nodded gratefully. "Thank you."

She closed her eyes as she felt the devouring ichor within her being pulled reluctantly out of her body, and coalescing into a sticky, swirling black ball in Morjin's hand. He looked at it curiously, even as he helped her body heal itself. "Same ichor, hmm? It appears that the Deathlord's retinue has a fondness for it."

Aya nodded, still breathing somewhat heavily. She looked at Kaesta's limp form, lying amongst the rubble, off to the side. "Morjin, I would like to ask of you a favor."

Morjin smiled at her as he healed the last of her wounds. "Yes, what can I do for you?"

Aya pointed with one of her swords at Kaesta's limp form. "Please, just make sure she's safe. That's my mother, and she had the same fate befall her as what happened to me. I just...want to..."

Morjin nodded understandingly. "I will do what I can, though her Essence must still have some awareness for her to have a chance of redemption, as you had."

Aya smiled, as Morjin understood perfectly. "Thank you."

Morjin chuckled quietly. "You're welcome. Now, I believe there's a battle raging outside that requires your expert attention?"

Aya smiled gratefully back to him, nodding as she took off running to join the fray of battle once more.


	56. Old Friends, Old Foes, New Threats

As she ran, Aya began shifting her vision to perceive how the battle was going on all fronts. She saw the multitudes of soulsteel-enhanced skeletons still pouring like a dark tidal wave from the shadowland surrounding Thorns even as she did so.

Golgol was fighting furiously with an Abyssal leading a huge pack of skeletons, all trying to overwhelm his battalion, and stop Gordray from interfering with the wraiths' control over the Juggernaut. The Alon-Ti fought like demons under his command, preventing the skeletons from advancing at all, despite their overwhelming numbers. Golgol himself was engaged in furious melee with the Abyssal. Most of Golgol's attacks got through the Abyssal's guard, but the Abyssal fought tenaciously back, causing Golgol to snarl, enraged.

Ken's battalion had reached Ophelia's beleaguered group, and was beginning to turn the tide. Ken had assumed his war form now, that of a huge half-man, half-jaguar. His moonsilver armor had altered itself to fit his larger form, protecting him well even as he used both his shield and his mace as weapons against the skeletons, turning them into ash as they fell swiftly, one by one. The Alon-Ti under his command were fighting in lines with his mercenaries, efficiently destroying the skeletons as they advanced slowly behind him.

Ophelia was still using her long, double-bladed halberd, twirling like a dancer as her blades spun through skeleton after skeleton. The Alon-Ti under her command were still fighting furiously, incensed that a few of their compatriots had fallen to the undead blight. Despite being overwhelmed, they were fighting with all the coldly efficient skill they had been taught, fear not even crossing their minds.

However, the Abyssal riding the warstrider was still leading the pack of huge bone and soulsteel dogs. They were swiftly reaching Golgol's group, and Aya knew those bonedogs would wreak havoc amongst the troops once they arrived. Golgol's back was to the advancing pack. Aya knew his senses were far keener than hers, but he might be lost in the fury of battle and unable to notice.

Aya focused her attention on all of Golgol's battalion. "Golgol! Another group advances behind you, leading a pack of bonedogs. Ready yourselves!"

Just as she spoke, Golgol's huge moonsilver cleaver crashed through the Abyssal he was fighting with, splitting the man in half. He quickly spun around, and growled orders to his soldiers to prepare for the Abyssal leading the bonedogs, now almost upon them. Aya gritted her teeth as she ran even faster. She left a quarter of her unit behind to defend Morjin, and the rest were following her as quickly as they could.

She could tell that the Abyssal leading the packs did not expect Golgol to leap over the heads of his soldiers to pounce on him, knocking him out of his warstrider. He howled into the man's face as his blade crashed with sickening force through him, shearing completely through. However, the bonedogs began to attack him en masse, treating him as a target. He was fighting them off as best he could, but they savagely and soundlessly bit and tore into his flesh.

Sunlight still glinting from her swords and armor, Aya reached the rear of the huge pack of bonedogs, and began to move through them, spinning and slashing furiously. Each bonedog took one or two hits from her blades to fall into ash, but they had noticed her now, and had begun to turning to face their new target.

Golgol's soldiers were fighting efficiently through the skeletons, but they began to falter when they saw the huge bone and soulsteel dogs behind them, eagerly waiting to get through. However, they saw Golgol and Aya fighting through the bonedogs, regardless of their wounds. They felt heartened once more, attacking the skeletons with renewed vigor.

Aya was constantly in motion, each parry or dodge she made leading smoothly and elegantly into an attack. A bonedog bit savagely into her right forearm, and kept trying to grind its teeth as it attempted to get through her armor. Spinning around as she dodged a pouncing bonedog, she stabbed the one hanging grimly on her forearm again and again with her shining wakizashi, each stab and slash leaving a trail of ash within the bonedog's body. Another narrowly missed biting into her ankle as she nimbly moved out of the way, and spun around for another attack. Aya ducked into a crouch, and flipped through the air to land on top of the bonedog still hanging onto her forearm, and slashed at its stomach as she landed. Finally, it collapsed into ash.

She saw that Golgol had slain or flung all the bonedogs off of him, and attacked them in return as he snarled angrily. He fought savagely as he bit them with his huge jaws, slashed at them with his large left clawed hand, surrounded by a ghostly blue vapor, or his huge moonsilver cleaver. Aya's unit had reached the fray now, and had begun attacking along with her.

In what seemed like an hour, the last of the bonedogs had been slain, and half the skeletons as well. Aya nodded at Golgol as their eyes met, both breathing too heavily to speak with any clarity. He nodded back before turning and helping his soldiers destroy the remaining skeletons.

Aya's heart sank as she spotted Greta, Hurricane's Last Raindrop. She was the creator of all these bone and soulsteel abominations, and now she had appeared on the battlefield, flanked by her many strange creations as she cried out to the sky above. Aya knew she had begun casting a powerful spell that only those who knew Oblivion intimately could cast, and she needed to be stopped before it was completed.

"Kale! Come help me!" she cried, as she began running at high speed toward the Abyssal sorceress. She ran as fast as she could, knowing that no matter what spell Greta was casting, it couldn't bode well for anyone who wasn't Abyssal or already dead.

"Way ahead of ya, babe," Kale called from right beside her, running with her. Aya looked at him in shock, as he had not escaped his many fights unscathed. He was bleeding from multiple cuts on his chest and arms, and a deep one above his left eyebrow. He didn't appear to notice as he ran, eyes focused on the Abyssal sorceress, who had stitches in the skin of her scalp instead of hair. Kale looked at Aya, who nodded. He ran a bit faster to pass her up by only a pace or two, and raced right through her surprised guards, punching the woman in the stomach as hard as he could with his right clawed fist before darting swiftly to the side.

The breath left her body with a loud gasp as she doubled over. Looking up, her eyes widened as she saw Aya running at high speed at her, with the long blade in her left hand already swinging toward her neck. She was unable to move out of the way as Aya's Crissaegrim slashed upward through her neck a split-second later.

Together, Kale and Aya fought furiously against the bone caterpillars and her other strange creations of soulsteel and bone. Aya was attacking one of the bone caterpillars, spinning around it as each slice of one of her blades turned a segment into ash as it rapidly began to lose its huge size. Kale was about to strike a strange, hunched over skeleton with a human face, its skin drawn tightly over the bones of its skull. It looked at him with wide, staring eyes before speaking. "Kale?"

Kale's fist stopped in mid-air, surprised. "Who the hell are you?"

It seemed grateful that he stopped, speaking with a strange, strangled voice. "Don't ye recognize me, lad? Nay, I s'pose not. Its me, Drannid!"

Kale's eyes opened wide at the news. The only thing partially recognizable of his father's old friend was his skeletal structure and face. "Hold on, Drannid. Don't move!"

Kale raced off toward another strange creation, he and Aya rapidly demolishing Greta's former guard. After a few minutes of hard fighting, they both walked back toward the hunched-over husk of Drannid's former self, eyeing him warily. Drannid seemed to smile as best he could with a lipless mouth as he saw both of them walking back toward him. "Lass, I'm glad tae see ye're well. Takin' good care o' t'lad, ah hope?"

Aya looked askance at him, looking him up and down before nodding. "I do the best I can. When were you taken?"

Drannid looked downcast. "A lo' of t'Immaculate troops went back 'ome one day, leavin' only a small retinue be'ind. T'undead came that very night, takin' as many o' t'people as they could afore they was driven off by t'remainin' troops. Ah...Ah was one o' them." He looked up at Aya. "Them Abyssals is a heartless bunch, Ah can tell ye that."

Aya nodded, her face crestfallen as she looked at Kale. Kale nodded decisively before speaking. "Follow me, Drannid. I don't know if you can be saved, but I know someone who will damn well try."

Drannid nodded solemnly. "Ach, it's nae big loss if'n ye can't. Ah've had many long years." He smiled as best he could, his stretched face looking rueful. "It were mah time tae go, anyhow."

Aya smiled sadly at him. "Even so, don't give up hope just yet. Not until it's time."

The strange creature they now knew to be Drannid smiled another strange, lipless rueful smile. "Tae be 'onest, lass, Ah'd already given up 'ope. Ah'm not expectin' nothin now."

Aya looked at the man with a sad smile. "Even so, never give up hope, Drannid. I'm sorry I can't stay longer, but I need to help the troops finish this battle."

Drannid let a wheezing, dry chuckle escape his lipless mouth. "Ye weren't kiddin' about them callouses on yer hands, were ye lass?"

Aya just smiled at him broadly before turning to look at Kale, a soft look entering her eyes. She kissed Kale tenderly before she left, both of them thinking the same thing as they looked into one another's eyes. If they died tonight, if they died soon, they both loved one another fiercely, and had been happier with one another than they'd ever been. She gently touched his face before kissing him once more, earning her a smile before she ran off to rejoin the fray. Kale smiled after her as she left, watching her run somewhat sadly before leading Drannid back to the ruined town.

Drannid shook his head as he watched Aya race off toward the battle once more, and begin turning a group of skeletons into ash with cold efficiency, one by one swiftly as she went. "Aye, she's a bonny lass, alright. Ah can see why ye love 'er."

Kale smiled, but didn't say anything as he led Drannid toward the town. Drannid followed Kale in a strange, hopping gait as they moved at a slow jog back to the town proper, which surprisingly was still mostly free of the fighting. They saw Morjin slowly and tenderly wrapping Kaesta in a warm blanket, before gently picking her up and walking out of the town. He stopped as he saw Kale walking toward him, followed by the strange creature. He smiled curiously at the sight. "Hello again, Kale. Who's your companion?"

Drannid smiled another lipless smile as he saw who had spoken. "Greetin's tae ye, Morjin. Ye got any o' that tea ye bought from Ayodha?"

Morjin's eyes widened as he heard the man's voice. "By all that's holy, Drannid! Is that you?"

The former man nodded jerkily. "Aye, what's left o' me, anyway."

Kale looked off to the left, where he had seen that...weird undead evil child laying only an hour before. "Hey Morjin? Whatever happened to that evil girl?"

Morjin turned to look, surprised. "I don't know! She was dead as far as I knew, and I didn't look at her much after I started tending to this woman's wounds. I didn't see anyone come to take her corpse or her head."

Kale shook his head. "This can't be good."

Morjin shook his head, looking shocked. "Alright, there's little time for discussion now, I'm afraid. Another wave of the Deathlord's retinue will arrive any minute now. Drannid, follow me. I'll bring you and the lady here to safety."

Kale smiled gratefully. "Thank you, Morjin. I'm in your debt."

Morjin smiled at her warmly. "Oh no, we all owe Aya a debt of gratitude that can never be repaid. For what she's done, and what she's become."

Kale looked at Morjin, somewhat confused, as he and Drannid walked quickly but calmly away. He grumbled as he saw that even more skeletons were pouring out of the shadowland surrounding the fallen city. Was there no end to these things?

Kale shook his head as he began re-invoking the rotes that would hide him from the presence of others. Without warning, he was flung at least twenty yards, skidding to a stop on the hard ground. He got up slowly and painfully as he looked behind him. He shuddered as he saw the huge being, the same Abyssal that had tried to stop him when he rescued Aya from the Malfean's tomb.

It was purple with all the blood being forced close to its skin, breathing loudly and angrily at him. This huge being was likely the first Abyssal ever made, and normally guarded the Malfean's tomb, as it was completely under its control, or so Kale had thought. What was this strange being doing here?

Kale felt his ribs creaking as he got to his feet. As he glared at the huge being, he saw a slow look of recognition cross its features right before it roared angrily. Oh yes, it appeared to remember him just fine. It charged at him, the ground shaking with each step. Kale smiled grimly as it bore down on him with its huge arms outstretched, hands the size of small tables opening toward him. "Hey fatass, glad to see you remember me! How about I give you a scar to remember me by?"

The huge being snarled loudly as it neared Kale. It reached both arms back, and shot them forward at a shocking rate of speed to grab Kale, but Kale was no longer there. He channeled his essence into The Claw of the Hunter, a huge phantasmal tiger's outstretched paw superimposed on top of his own fist as he struck the thing in the hip as hard as he could.

The smell of burnt flesh reached his nose before the thing roared in pain, whirling around to face Kale, who was now grinning. It swung a huge arm toward him, which Kale dodged. The huge being threw a fast jab at Kale with its other arm, which Kale couldn't quite dodge in time, flying backwards twenty yards from the hit. Kale felt his ribs, which grated against each other agonizingly.

Out of the shadowland he saw a large battalion of skeletons possessed by wraiths, each had its bones plated in soulsteel like the others here, but also wearing heavy soulsteel plate armor. Half of the armored skeletons carried bows, and began nocking them as they surrounded the huge Abyssal swiftly. The rest of them carried either swords and shields, or long spears, surrounding the archers with military precision.

The huge Abyssal was breathing louder, its constant unending anger growing more fierce. It raised a huge arm, and pointed at Kale, yelling "KILL!" in a rumbling, dusty voice. The archers all aimed at Kale, who cursed, looking wildly for a place to hide.

Kale cursed again as he dove behind some of the walls left of the town right as the arrows were loosed, wincing in agony as he landed on some of his broken ribs. He knew the Mask of Winters would pull out all the stops necessary to fight them, but he never knew he'd be able to get this sort of help. He heard arrows peppering the wall he was leaning against as he panted painfully for breath, one of his hands holding his ribs as he painfully tried to stand. Kale clenched his jaw to prevent himself from crying out in pain. He heard the armored possessed skeletons marching toward him, the ground shaking as they walked with each step in unison toward where he hid.

He smiled grimly. If this huge Abyssal was joining the fray, then the Mask of Winters must be worried, at the very least. This made Kale feel a little better, despite his ribs screaming their torment at him as he tried to find a place to hide.

Kale darted through the ruins of Thorns, holding his ribs and gritting his teeth against the pain as he went. He could hear the possessed skeletons still marching after him as he ran, though the sound grew fainter as he began putting distance between himself and them. He smiled slightly through his pain as sounds of the huge Abyssal's limping footsteps grew fainter in the distance.

He found a hidden alcove with a small exit he could dart through if needs be, and leaned his back against the cool stone as he panted, wincing painfully with each breath. He shook his head slightly, as some blood fell across his vision. He thought that Harmony of Stones hit hard, but the ursine Lunar had nothing on this great purple Abyssal. Kale took shallow breaths as he held his broken ribs.

Meanwhile, Aya, Golgol, Ken, and Ophelia's battalions had nearly finished demolishing the skeletons. Though the soulsteel that encased their bones made them stronger and more resilient, they were now mostly so much ash. All Alon-Ti, mercenaries, and the Exalted amongst their ranks fought with grim certainty now, as they scented victory within their grasp.

All of them heard a roar that shook the ground heavily coming from the gigantic Juggernaut, as it shuddered. Those able to see the incorporeal began to see the puppeteer wraiths begin to flee the huge beast, causing it to shudder as their collective control over it was relinquished. Gordray began shouting to the sky, forcing the others to leave as well.

Though many of the force were wounded in one way or another, they all began cheering as the huge being shuddered. Their cheering abruptly ceased as the huge being's skin began peeling back, revealing its skeleton and withered internal organs, with massive maggots within looking sightlessly around, and turning to face the battalions. The maggots made squeaking and squealing noises as they began crawling toward the units.

At the same time, a low rumbling began to make itself heard, growing louder and louder still with its intensity. The loud rumbling resolving into four Abyssals riding warstriders coming out of the shadowland, leading four large battalions of armored skeletons. All these skeletons had their bones encased in soulsteel. Everyone could tell these skeletons were not like the rest, as they marched with military efficiency, the ground shaking with each collective marching step.

The Abyssals split into four separate units, the battalions of possessed skeletons following with perfect precision. They came to a halt two hundred yards away from the units Ken, Ophelia, Golgol, and Aya led, and seemed to smile behind their helmets as all their eyes began glowing a sickly bluish color. In the ensuing silence, the soft moaning of many tortured souls floated and crawled through the air from the soulsteel arms they wore.

"Split and form ranks," Aya said in a normal voice, though her command was carried to the ears of the other three battalions' ears. Some of the Alon-Ti were shocked by the sight of the maggots and Abyssals coming toward them, but snapped out of their shock swiftly as her command made itself heard. They formed into their regular four battalions, with the captain of each in front.

Golgol roared out, his loud wolvish voice forming into human words all the Alon-Ti and mercenaries heard. "They're scraping the bottom of the creekbed now! Beat them until they stop moving!" The former barbarians and present Alon-Ti yelled out their battlecries in response.

Ophelia called out, her slightly lilting voice nonetheless carrying authority and assuredness. "We break their ranks and cut them down once they charge! Naginatas ready!" All Alon-Ti under her command sheathed their blades smoothly, and unstrapped their long-poled curving halberds if they hadn't already. "Hai!" They answered in one voice.

Ken, in his large hybrid jaguar and man form was as tall and large as Golgol was. With a loud snarling yell, he roared out. "These things bring nothing but decay, and must be cut down! We break them all!" All his Alon-Ti soldiers and mercenaries shouted out their agreement, yelling "Hai!" in a single voice, with the mercenaries yelling out their support as well.

Aya was about to yell out to rally her troops, when she saw the four Abyssals on warstriders were trotting toward them, leaving their battalions behind. They came to a silent halt about twenty yards away from the Alon-Ti battalions, and stayed there for a few moments, unmoving, and unspeaking.

One of them called out to their group in a rasping, grating voice. "We wish to parley."

Aya called out strongly, her voice gaining strength and power as she did. "State your piece!"

The same one seemed to smile, as its glowing eyes became half-lidded behind its helmet. "Leave your troops here for us to devour, and you and your commanders may go free. We will leave the surface town of Thorns in peace."

Ken was about to glare at Aya, anticipating her response, but was somewhat surprised as Aya yelled out her response immediately. "Your terms are not acceptable! We bring forth a counter-offer!"

This seemed to surprise the Abyssal who spoke. "Speak your terms, living one."

Aya seemed to smile grimly as she replied. "Send out the Mask of Winters, and get on your knees in front of your troops. We will give you honorable deaths in return!"

The Abyssal let forth a wheezing, dry laugh. "Your arrogance will be your undoing, living one. Had you kept your old power intact, turncoat, we might be afraid of you. You gave all that up for a foolish pipe dream, instead of fulfilling your destiny as you should have!"

The Abyssal laughed louder, and the other three joined in the discordant sound, before stopping abruptly. "What is it you want, Solar?"

Aya narrowed her black eyebrows as she glared at them before yelling back, her voice echoing. "I want to see the Mask of Winters slain, all he holds destroyed, and all those who follow him irrevocably dead!"

The Abyssals were silent for a few moments, stunned. They laughed as one once more, the discordant noise putting everyone's nerves on edge. The one who spoke before spoke again as all four went silent. "The Mask of Winters cannot be slain, fool!"

Ken growled out, but before he could put his anger into words, Aya yelled out once more. "Send him out once you and your pathetic battalions fall, and we shall see!"

The Abyssals laughed once more, and Aya didn't wait for another response. Despite her voice carrying to all the troops under her command, she yelled "CHARGE!," and began running at the Abyssals.

The commanders and their battalions of Alon-Ti surged forward like an unstoppable tide, hearing the Abyssal's laughter abruptly cease as they raised their blades at the same time, the skeleton warriors charging behind them. However, they were far nearer to the Alon-Ti forces than their skeletons were, and the four commanders of the Alon-Ti would reach them swiftly.

Ophelia whipped out her firewand and fired in one smooth motion, a shuddering crack rending the air. A split second later, the Abyssal on the far left warstrider was engulfed in an explosion of azure and yellow. Everyone heard a bubbling scream as the Abyssal got out of the warstrider with the explosion not abating in the least, and begin running wildly in search of something to smother the flames. The fires consumed the Abyssal before it ran more than a few paces, and it fell onto the ground, unmoving.

The Abyssals charged at them on their warstriders, hoping to run them down. They weren't prepared for Golgol and Ken leaping mightily in the air to knock two of them out of their warstriders, and Aya to cut the legs out from underneath the last one.

As she was fighting with the Abyssal who was spoken, parrying and counterattacking furiously, she called out to Ophelia's battalion. "Ophelia, take your battalion and destroy the maggots while we take down the rest! Go!"

Swiftly, Ophelia charged with her battalion in tow toward the huge, crawling maggots, now crawling faster as they scented living flesh.

The Abyssal Aya fought was attacking furiously with its long, wide-bladed spear, and blocking most of her savage strikes with its shield, but strike after strike got through his defenses. It tried to strike out with his shield at her, hoping to knock Aya to the ground, but was rewarded instead with her short sword slashing through his arm. Its shield fell with a clatter to the ground. It stabbed out, but Aya spun swiftly to the side to stab him through the neck with her short sword, the Crissaegrim sweeping across her other blade to take his head a second later.

As she saw the Alon-ti continuing their charge and beginning to fight the armored skeletons, she saw that Ken and Golgol were still fighting furiously with the Abyssals they had dismounted. Their fighting was savage, but she could tell both Lunars had the upper hand. Golgol's huge moonsilver cleaver crashed all the way lengthwise through one just as Ken smashed the head clean off the other with his mace, its head flying far enough to knock down a skeleton warrior in the distance.

Aya called quickly to them. "The Alon-Ti have the skeletons in hand! We must help Ophelia, or the maggots will devour her soldiers!"

Both growled ferally as they nodded once, and raced with her toward Ophelia's battle with the maggots. A few Alon-Ti were already absent, the maggots noisily devouring them, uncaring of their armor. Golgol sliced the back end of a maggot, and pulled out an Alon-Ti soldier with his other hand, who gasped as she was able to taste air once more. She gasped her thanks, but Golgol was already attacking the next maggot.

Aya carefully sliced a few maggots trying to digest soldiers in half, rescuing the soldiers inside before she rushed onto the next one. The Alon-Ti were fighting as if they were possessed now, coldly enraged that their compatriots were being devoured by these huge things.

Within minutes, all the maggots were dead, though a few of the Alon-Ti had been devoured by the maggots before they could be rescued. They looked to the battle a little ways away, and saw that though the Alon-Ti and the mercenaries with them were slowly winning the battle, they had taken a few losses. Ken, Ophelia, Golgol, and Aya looked at one another, and nodded. Together, they led Ophelia's battalion toward the still-raging melee.


	57. The Shadows Coil to Strike

The Mask of Winters paced his inner chambers, glaring at the side wall. This side wall was where he kept all his Essence Traps, used to hold Abyssal (and sometimes Solar) Essences until he was ready to use them to give a worthy servant the Black Exaltation.

Yesterday evening, they were all empty. He received news of a swift strike that had begun upon Thorns, and he had watched with growing surprise as the Essence Traps began to fill up, one by one. He looked at them more closely, and saw that only three were empty now, of the ten he had total. He narrowed his eyes behind his mask, even as he almost absent-mindedly cast the necromantic spells to reanimate the soulsteel-enhanced skeletons brought back into his realm. They had nearly gathered again, and were preparing to rejoin the battle in the world above.

A wraith glided into his throne room, and awaited his audience. He sighed in slight annoyance at the sight, and floated out to his throne room, seating himself comfortably on his throne. He bade the wraith to speak after a few moments.

The wraith looked agitated and slightly frightened. "Sire, the Juggernaut has just been purged! All the puppeteer wraiths have been forced out!"

The Mask of Winters narrowed his eyes. "Do you take me for a fool, wraith? Do I not see all?"

The wraith looked nervous, now. "Sire, I meant no offense; I just came to tell you as I saw the others being forced out, as I was."

The Mask of Winters smiled. "So you were the first to be exorcised from controlling the Juggernaut, is that correct?"

The wraith, not suspecting anything, nodded. "Yes, sire. I came to tell you right after it happened; the others were purged shortly after me."

The Mask of Winters got up leisurely from his chair, and floated calmly and seemingly aimlessly around his throne room, coming closer to the hapless wraith little by little. "What else can you tell me about this battle that you suspect escapes my notice?"

If the wraith were still alive, it would have swallowed to show its nervousness. Instead, its corpus shifted slightly, becoming less solid. "The only force of yours still intact now is that led by Ennuos."

The Mask of Winters suddenly had the wraith clenched in his hands, crushing the wraith's corpus into a small sphere. The wraith made an echoing moan of surprise and pain. The Mask of Winters kept his temper with the stupid wraith with great difficulty. "I'm not asking you for your opinions, as obviously your miniscule mind is incapable of knowing that I'll simply return the fallen troops to the battlefield, as I did not half an hour ago. I asked you for any news you thought me unaware of. I'm going to ask you once more, politely. I shall not ask you quite so politely again. Is there any news you think I'm unaware of?"

The wraith's voice was muffled from being compressed within his hands into a formless sphere of corpus, but managed to respond. "The renegade Rosethorne leads the living forces, Sire. She is not the only Exalted amongst their ranks; I saw at least three, perhaps four Solars - one of which was the one who exorcised us from controlling the Juggernaut. There appears to be two Lunars, with a few Dragon-Blooded mercenaries; the rest are just unExalted humans."

The Mask of Winters began squishing the wraith's essence in his cold hands, to spill out the other side of his hand. The wraith's corpus fell liquidly into his other hand, and The Mask of Winters began the process over again. "Yes, I saw. However, she is no longer a Child of the Abyss, is she?"

The wraith answered with a pained voice. "No, Sire. I suspect her to be a Solar now, though I am unsure."

The Mask of Winters threw the wraith's compressed and congealed corpus on the floor, forming a small, slow-moving puddle of blackness. "You will remain there until I order you to resume your shape."

The wraith's voice was clearer now, though it stayed a puddle of ghostly form on the floor of his throne room. "Yes, Sire."

The Mask of Winters began floating back and forth in his throne room, thinking out loud. "So, the Dark Destiny that awaited us all is now incomplete, or wrong. Had she stayed on her rightful path, she would have assumed her rightful place amongst our ranks as a Deathlord, though still deferential to me, as her first Lord. Now, she appears to have thrown away her own destiny. It appears that stronger measures are required now, as the only Abyssals that remain alive are Kaesta, Noro, and my dearest daughter. My disgusting and stupid servant, go fetch Nemilette."

The wraith was about to reform into the shape it felt comfortable as its Sire spoke half to himself, but managed to stop itself before it aroused its Lord's ire. "At once, Sire."

The Mask of Winters waited patiently for a few minutes, rewarded soon by the sound of skipping feet as Nemilette entered the throne room, getting down on one knee before her father once she reached his throne, as was proper. "Hi, Daddy!"

The Mask of Winters smiled paternally behind his mask, noticing the small black puddle of wraithly form on the floor by his daughter. "Hello, my daughter. How is the war going above?"

Nemilette frowned. "Mother killed me, twice now. It really hurts to reform myself after she does, Daddy. Where she hit me still burns terribly."

The smile left the Mask of Winters' face. "Daughter, I demand obedience. Obedience shows that you love your father. Cut your wrist and bleed for your father, to show him you still love him."

Nemilette smiled at him as she cut her small wrist. "Of course I love you, Daddy. I'll show it to you." A few small crimson drops fell onto the floor below.

He smiled once again, looking at his daugher. So eager to prove her love for him, as was proper. Soon, he'd have more just like her, all eagerly waiting to do his bidding. "So, I asked you a question, poppet. How goes the war above?"

Nemilette smiled again, her eyes turning black as she did. "A few of their soldiers have fallen, but something prevents our necromancers from turning them into wraiths. Your armies are falling. May I lead the stronger forces, father?"

The Mask of Winters smiled again, paternally. "No, my poppet. You will accompany me to the world above, so that this may be settled properly. It appears I can't trust anyone else with such a simple task of fending off a few weak living beings."

He turned his head to the wraith, still trembling slightly in the form of a puddle of wraithly corpus on the floor. "Servant, you may awaken the Defiler."

The wraith trembled noticably on the floor. "Sire...the Defiler is always hungry when it wakes!"

His eyebrows narrowed behind his mask. "If you are too slow to escape its jaws, then you are assuredly too weak to remain in my service. You have my permission to resume your normal shape, if you feel it helps you. Go."

The wraith reformed into its natural shape, that of a small boy carrying a lantern shedding black light. It nodded nervously, floating off through the corridors that led downward, deep into the bowels of the castle.

The Mask of Winters returned his attention to his daughter. What a truly magnificent being, he'd found. A small chamber hidden behind many rock faces in the world above housed an old laboratory from the First Age, containing a single living being that could alter its form as a wraith could. The means were far different, though the effects were the same. After been given a portion of his own essence and the Black Exaltatation, this magnificent being was now his daughter.

She couldn't fully die unless he did, now. Her being was unfamiliar to him, unfortunately. Most of the documents and such from the laboratory had been destroyed, forcing him to use only his extensive knowledge of the occult to figure out what this being was. He found her as an embryo in a glass chamber. He chose her form by giving it some of Rosethorne's blood along with his own, and it had formed before his eyes into a little girl that looked like a combination of the two of them, aging rapidly to between nine and twelve years of age. Her aging had stopped there, for some reason, not aging a day physically for the past five years, though she had been everything he had ever dared hope a real Abyssal servant of his should be.

He'd lied to her about her origins, of course; no need to let her know her past just yet. Besides, it made her hate the renegade, which was useful. Besides, she was technically, by virtue of magic, Rosethorne's daughter.

His daughter, Nemilette was smiling at him, now used to him losing himself in thought. He smiled at her once again before speaking. "Come with your father to go see if the Defiler is ready yet."

Nemilette bounced up and down with undisguised glee. "And you said I may come with you to hurt the stupid surface folk more, father. May I? Please?"

He smiled once again at her enthusiasm. "Of course you may, my poppet."

The went down the corridors and passageways of the castle together, stopping in the dark, huge chamber where the Defiler was kept. They heard echoing screams as something huge devoured the wraith sent to awaken it. The screams were silent after a few moments. They saw the huge being in the shadows, further back in the chamber had turned its baleful attention toward them.

The Mask of Winters floated forward. "Hello, my beautiful creation. Come pay your respects to your artificer."

The thing floated out of the darker shadows of the huge room, being semi-visible now. It screamed at them, an unearthly, angry sound which would have shattered the eardrums of all the living within the room. The Mask of Winters, not being alive, barely noticed. Nemilette's ears began to bleed, though she didn't show her pain in any other way than clenching her fists.

It moved a little closer, in sinuous movements. It sounded as if it were sniffing the air around the two new intruders. Its body was roughly humanoid, apart from the two huge wings made of pure shadow folded on its back. Its long neck ended in a predatory skull that resembled a huge human skull, apart from the large fangs. Its eyes glowed a baleful blood red color as it looked at the child and its maker. It growled at them now, a sound that made the entire chamber shake.

The Mask of Winters raised his voice slightly. "Don't take that tone with your master. You will show me respect, or I will show you the many meanings I've attached to the definition of 'pain' over the years."

The thing moved closer, on all fours now as it moved gracefully around them in the chamber, its huge limbs making no noise as they stepped against the rocky floor. Finally, it sat ten feet away from where the Mask of Winters stood, its tail still swishing from side to side in anger.

The Mask of Winters smiled at this behind his mask. "Excellent, my creation. I have need of your hunger and your strength once more. You may devour the bodies and souls of many in exchange for doing my bidding."

The thing sat back slightly, looking vaguely catlike in the darkness as it looked down at the Mask of Winters. It licked its skinless mouth with a long tongue made of pure shadow.

"Do you accede to my wishes, my creation?" The Mask of Winters didn't like having to bargain in any way with anything he had created himself. He began to feel that his skills were too great now, as many of his creations were willful as well as intelligent.

The huge, shadowy being sat back further, balancing on its tail. It spread its forearms to its sides in midair, perpendicular to its body as its chest creaked, now opening lengthwise to reveal tangible darkness within.

The Mask of Winters floated into the chest of the Defiler, and dispersed his body into his creation, submerging its will beneath his own. This being was now his body, and he remembered now why he had made such a thing, and only one of them. The chest cavity closed by his will, and he stood on his hind legs, looking down from a great distance to Nemilette, far below him now.

He spoke in an unearthly, silken voice from within the Defiler. "Daughter, go gather my Bale Wolves, and find the animating wraiths best suited to ride them. Meet me back down here with haste."

The girl bowed to him, slicing her wrist in supplication to him. "Yes, father. I shall return in no time at all." She ran off eagerly.

Her absence gave him time to get used to animating this huge creation once again. He got the idea from their standard warstriders, in creating a suit of armor by the same methods. Unfortunately, he didn't trust anyone but himself to control such a thing, as the strength and speed of this thing were shocking. His paranoia had overridden his thirst for conquest in this instance.

Within only a few minutes, Nemilette had returned to the Defiler's Chamber, followed by a group of huge, twisted-looking wolves made of soulsteel and bone, running in formation. He stood on his hind legs now, to behold all of them standing below him. "Welcome, my minions. Arm yourselves properly, for we will finish what hapless skeletons cannot."

The dogs nodded once to him, bowing slowly as they did before rushing back down the way they had come. Nemilette looked nervous or bored as she paced. The Mask of Winters said nothing about this; it would be good for her to learn patience.

In a few more minutes, the Bale Wolves returned, wearing heavy armor around their huge forms. Their armor had long, bladed spikes covering their entire bodies, as well as accentuating the claws on their feet, and the fangs in their mouths. They were the perfect pinnacle of predatory form, just as the Defiler was the epitome of humanoid predatory form. He smiled to himself, the Defiler's mouthbones stretching into a ghastly parody of a smile as he did.

He looked down at his daughter. "Poppet, show your power."

Nemilette allowed the bones of her spine and ribcage to reform and stretch out of her back to become large, bladed wings once again. Her body lengthened, growing thinner as she nearly doubled in height. Her arms lengthened as well, her hands stretching and lengthening to form long, prehensile bladed hands. She chuckled ominously.

The Mask of Winters extended a strand of his essence toward her, lifting her into the air. She was now tethered to him so that she couldn't fly off without his supervision, and would be useful in the fight ahead. She giggled as she flitted above his head, attached to him like a kite.

Growing used to this predatory creation's instincts, he roared out in the darkness of this chamber before speaking to them all. "Gather, my children, my minions! We taste the flesh of the living tonight!"

Now on all fours, he raced through the twisting, winding chambers to the plains outside of his castle, and toward the nearby shadowland that surrounded Thorns. The Bale Wolves were right behind him, howling their eagerness and hunger to the black sky above them.

If the renegade wished to see him, then see him she shall. As he burst through the shadowland to the surface world, he screamed his eagerness to devour her being to the night sky above, the Bale Wolves howling in counterpoint to his scream. If the living dared to try interfering with the plans of the dead, then dead they shall become, under their new masters.


	58. The Fall of the Mask

Getting to his feet painfully, Kale grabbed his ribs to ease the pain somewhat. To his surprise, he was helped to his feet. He looked up, and saw Morjin helping him, and looking worried. "Stand upright, and lean against the wall, Kale. Please hurry, there isn't much time."

Kale nodded, and leaned against the wall. Morjin placed his hands on Kale's sides, and Kale felt his ribs re-aligning audibly. Morjin healed a few of the other deep cuts and bruises Kale had, and finally nodded in satisfaction before looking gravely into his eyes. "Kale, I will destroy most of the great Abyssal's skeletons, but you must destroy the rest. You must also destroy the great Abyssal himself, and do so with alacrity. It is urgent that you do so, for the shadowland trembles with anticipation. Something of nightmare and shadow will emerge soon."

Looking rather taken aback, Kale just nodded at first. "Yeah. What is this thing that's coming?"

Morjin looked back at Kale, looking more grim than he'd ever seen. "The Lord of the Underworld kingdom below has heard Aya's challenge, and even now prepares to answer it. You will be needed, but it is imperative that you destroy the great Abyssal before the Deathlord manifests. Do you understand?"

Looking a bit more taken aback at first, Kale then nodded, clenching his jaw once. "I hope you'll explain why after this is all done. But yeah, that giant jackass and I have a score to settle anyway."

Morjin nodded with a grave smile. "Good. Be swift, and join the battalions on the battlefield immediately after you finish."

Kale gave him a lopsided grin. "What, and miss my chance at kicking his pale undead ass? Not a chance!"

Morjin smiled a bit more widely as he watched Kale dart off, back toward the great Abyssal. He closed his eyes, and felt the world around him trembling slightly, like the calm before the great storm. Taking a deep breath, he climbed as high as he could amongst the ruins of Thorns.

Kale heard the echoing, hollow marching footsteps of the skeletons under the huge Abyssal's command soon. He ducked into the shadows, and began recasting the rotes that would help him in battle. Stealth was useless, now. He closed his eyes as he began drawing on the strength of the river and ocean nearby, the trees in the distance, and from the slow heartbeat of the earth itself, and drawing the essence of these good and pure things to power the rotes he cast. His claws began glowing a soft yellowish-white. He felt his skin hardening, and growing more supple at the same time. His own body felt slightly less substantial, and more graceful.

As he opened his eyes once more, he wasn't all that surprised to see the light from his Caste Mark illuminating the area around him somewhat. He also saw insubstantial swirls of dark purple of the evening horizon around him, mixing with the deep blue of the night sky, the reddish color of the sunset, with the subtle weaving streams of yellow that bound all the colors together as those caused by the sun.

He began running toward the marching footsteps, only to hear a single muffled explosion, like one would hear from a furnace that lit explosively. The sound of falling metal followed immediately afterward, making him smile. He rounded the corner in full sprint, seeing a large pile of ash, mixed with soulsteel weapons and armor. There was a small group of skeletons left, spread apart now after seeing many of their fellows turned into ash from standing so close together when the explosion hit. The huge Abyssal was limping his way to follow, his good leg hitting the ground with a shuddering boom each time he took a step.

Deciding that time was of the essence, Kale darted out, running at the skeletons like a racing fire. The first exploded into ash after his razor-clawed fist impacted its jawbone, another one following suit after a strike at the neck with his other fist. The others now began attacking. Their movements seemed to be moving in slow motion, as if they were attacking underwater. Kale was careful not to become cocky at this, but took heavy advantage of the differences in speed all the same.

As the huge Abyssal neared, Kale felled the twelfth and last skeleton with a savage uppercut to the jaw, ash falling over his clothes immediately afterward. The Abyssal looked at Kale, and looked at the piles of ash littering the ground around him. The great overly-musclebound Abyssal roared in rage at Kale, limping swiftly at him.

Kale thought furiously as he began moving. He hid a grim smile as he thought of an excellent idea. He led the angered Abyssal after him in a wide circle, moving always to his left. Not suspecting, the Abyssal followed him, almost dragging his bad leg in his haste. Kale tightened the circle little by little, pretending to become tired as he slowed down somewhat. The Abyssal reached at him with arms the size of treetrunks, eagerly waiting for Kale to slow down just a little more.

It was then that Kale suddenly spun to his right, channeling his essence into his fist as he punched the tall Abyssal in his undamaged hip as hard as he could, the phantasmal tiger's paw appearing over his own fist as he struck. The smell of burnt flesh and blood met Kale's nostrils as the Abyssal became far more unsteady, roaring in pain as both his hips were now grievously damaged. The Abyssal collapsed onto his great knees, which Kale quickly took advantage of, aiming for the Abyssal's throat with his right arm cocked back as the Silver Horn began to glow.

The Abyssal made a strangled noise, holding his throat with one hugely and misshapen hand as he did. Kale ran around behind him, and aimed another strong punch to the back of the neck. The Abyssal began to sway after the blow was struck, falling onto his stomach with a shuddering crash. Kale yelled down at the huge being whose blood made his skin purple. "That's for trying to stop me from rescuing my fiancee, you giant pile of shit!"

Smiling grimly, Kale began jogging toward the plains surrounding Thorns, and then moving at a flat run, the landscape moving past him swiftly. The air was getting colder now, the clouds covering more of the night sky, making the night-time landscape eerie, and seeming more insubstantial. A cold mist began to form with ghostly wisps of vapor over the ground. Kale ran faster, knowing within the depths of his being that something terrible was imminent.

He reached the battalions, seeing the last of the formerly uncountable skeleton army being cut down. Aya looked at him with surprise, looking down at his bloody hands, and at his clothes, now covered in ash and blood. He just smirked at her, feeling smug now, despite his growing unease. "Sorry I'm late, gorgeous. Did I miss the fun?"

She shook her head at him, smiling softly. "No, I get the feeling you arrived just in time. Have you seen the mist, and noticed that it's becoming colder, and darker outside?"

Kale's smug smile disappeared in an instant as he nodded. "Yeah; Morjin told me that the Deathlord is coming soon. I think he just likes making a dramatic entrance."

Aya's eyebrows rose at this. "So, he heard my challenge after all." She smiled grimly. "A good thing, too. Being late for one's funeral is rather rude."

Kale heard Golgol chuckling roughly at this, and a few others as well. He saw a group of Alon-Ti marching back to their places in the battalions, having finished off their opponents. The overall attitude was smugness, despite many of them looking rather tired from all the furious fighting that had been done tonight. No more rumbling of many undead feet was heard, and ash surrounded them on all sides. The once-mighty Juggernaut was now nothing more than a huge, decaying lump of very dead, unmoving flesh.

He heard some of the soldiers and mercenaries joking with each other quietly about the battles, but Kale also noticed that Golgol, Aya, Ophelia, and Ken were looking keenly into the night air around them, all of them looking wary.

Ken sniffed the air, using the keen senses of a big cat in his large, half-jaguar and half-man shape. He growled, the sounds of a deep-voiced jaguar forming into the words of men. "The scent of death and decay grows stronger."

Ophelia gripped her double-ended halberd more tightly as she looked around. "I feel dark essence being gathered. The balance of the living and dead essence in this place is silently tipping back toward death."

Golgol nodded, using the keen senses of a wolf to feel the world around him. He growled suddenly, baring his teeth in the darkness as he looked intently in one direction. "Something comes!"

Aya immediately called out commands to the entire gathered army, her words silencing the ones joking in an instant. "Ready yourselves!"

A loud, deep, and angry scream was faintly heard, as if at a great distance. It grew louder, and louder still, the screaming now being complemented by the baying of huge hounds scenting their prey. Everyone gathered winced as the scream began to be loud enough to hurt their ears, the sound not abating in the least.

A huge, dark shape suddenly flew straight upward, and out of the shadowland, flying on even larger wings that appeared to be made of pure shadow. Large wolves with no skin, their muscles made of pure soulsteel strands, and their bones visible through them began rushing out of the shadowland toward them. Armor with long, sharp spikes covered their forms, their mouths, and their paws as they raced nearer.

But all eyes were on the huge, nightmarish shape in the sky, barely visible except for its baleful, glowing red eyes. Everyone's stomach began to lurch as they smelled the strong stench of decay, and heard the soft screaming of tormented souls from the sky.

Aya, however, wasn't fazed for an instant as she efficiently called out orders. "Ophelia! Golgol! Take your units and destroy the bone wolves as fast as you can, as they'll only hamper fighting their Lord! Everyone else, ready yourselves!"

Her orders snapped most people out of their growing, gnawing fear, as they swiftly began following her commands. The front half of Ophelia's battalion sheathed their swords, and readied their long-hafted polearms as they prepared for the charge of the bone and soulsteel wolves, larger and more intelligent than the ones they fought before. Golgol knew a good idea when he saw one, and ordered his troops to do the same.

The front half of each battalion readied their long polearms against the charge of the wolves, Ophelia crouching alongside the front line as she called out last-minute orders to her troops. Golgol's grip on his huge cleaver tightened and relaxed in anticipation, his skin exuding moonsilver to fill in the cracks of the armor he wore. He was crouched behind the front line, his legs primed for a strong leap.

The soldier's fear began to mount as they saw the huge wolves bearing down on them, howling in unearthly voices. It was then that the huge shape in the sky dove at them, a spiked shape following after it. It swooped over the troops preparing for the charge of the bone wolves, and slung the spiked shape at them, battering quite a few soldiers into the air. Their screaming became softer, and then louder as they fell back down to the ground below. Five more soldiers fell from the sky as the spike shape uncoiled into a rough human shape, shoving the soldiers off the large, wing-like blades and toward the ground far below. Everyone shuddered when they heard the noise of a little girl laughing evilly.

Then, the bone wolves struck. Most of the Alon-Ti held fast against their charge, the long bladed polearms stopping the front line of wolves in their tracks. Golgol leapt mightily over his soldiers, landing amongst the wolves, heedless of the minor cuts from their armor as he began slicing, biting, and clawing with furious speed at them. Ophelia began her dance, her double-ended halberd spinning as it sliced through the bone wolves, but to her dismay, it only seemed to make them angry.

The dark shape in the sky dove again, this time at the two battalions not engaged in combat. It swooped high enough above them so they couldn't reach it with their weapons, but it vomited a sickly, dark reddish coagulated blood over them as it flew. The ground began to shake upon contact with the sickly blood, and long, sharp spikes made of bone began suddenly erupting from the ground. More spikes, and still more kept sprouting from the ground, forming an impenetrable wall of the sharp bone. Half the Alon-Ti and mercenaries dove out of the way, as did Aya and Ken, but the rest weren't so lucky. They breathed their last as they were impaled many times by the sprouting bone. The figure was high in the sky once more, looking as it it hadn't moved in the least. Aya gritted her teeth in frustration, yelling out orders. "Ready firewands and take aim! Fire at will if it dives again!"

The soldiers and the bone wolves were now engaged in furious melee, the Alon-Ti forming into groups of four to fight each of the huge bone wolves; two with polearms to push it back, and two more with swords ready to cut it down. Golgol felled the first bone wolf with his huge moonsilver cleaver, howling his victory even as he attacked the next. Seeing their captain destroy a bone wolf gave them all renewed resolve, two more exploding into ash from Ophelia's spinning strikes, and from a unit of Alon-Ti. However, for each bone wolf that fell, two Alon-Ti valiantly gave their lives to the bone wolves' tearing claws and rending teeth.

Kale ground his teeth in pure irritation. Sheathing his claws in his jacket with swiftness, he unslung the bow from over his shoulder and nocked an arrow, taking a deep breath to calm himself, holding it as he kept careful aim at the dark, nearly imperceptible figure in the sky. The arrow began to glow softly with a yellowish-white light right before he fired, aiming unerringly at the figure flying high above. His heart sank as he saw the smaller figure with bladed wings swoop around on its invisible tether to the huge figure, and grab the arrow in mid-flight. Laughter of a little girl, tainted with cruelty echoed across the battlefield below as she contemptuously snapped it, letting the halves fall to the ground below.

The figure dove again, this time at the engaged battalions Golgol and Ophelia commanded, the smaller figure with the bladed wings spinning around in a circle as it dove. Kale saw the smaller figure grab its knees, tucking itself into a smaller, and more compact form as it hit and impaled Ophelia and several other troops, knocking a bone wolf and several more Alon-Ti high into the air with the continuing impact.

Ophelia couldn't move very much, impaled as she was through the arm, chest, and leg with three of the figure's bladed wings. She could only watch in horror as it uncoiled itself, and turned to look at her evilly. It extended long, and impossibly thin arms toward her. With her uninjured arm, Ophelia swiftly drew her firewand and fired into the thing's face, the shuddering crack of her firewand throwing her backwards and off of the figure's wings, and toward the ground below. She hit the ground with a sickening impact. With each labored breath she took, she could see bubbles in the blood over her chest, visible now that one of the plates of her armor was still stuck on that thing's wings. She looked at the sight, and shuddered, unconsciousness trying to pull her into its dark embrace.

Golgol's battalion and Ophelia's unit had slain a good two thirds of the hungry and devouring bone wolves, the rest now not quite as vicious as they attacked more warily. Golgol snarled his impending victory at them as he kept striking, each savage strike of his huge cleaver striking at least one of the wolves.

The figure in the sky screamed again, a sound that felt like sharkskin being rubbed the wrong way over everyone's nerves. It dove again, this time landing on the ground, making the ground seem to recoil in horror at what had just landed. Now, the gathered troops could see what it looked like, a few moaning in horror. Aya didn't miss hearing this. "Steady yourselves, now it can be killed! Fire at will!"

Small explosions began illuminating and revealing the figure's form, the night air being rent by many sounds of the firewands sending their explosive charges toward the dark figure in the distance. To their dismay, a sound very like deep, hissing laughter began echoing over the battlefield from the huge dark figure, right before it rushed at them on all fours. It reached them with appalling speed, stopping ten feet in front of them, and swinging the other figure toward them with savage strength. Aya leapt sideways up and over the speeding figure with spinning bladed wings, and Ken did as well. The Alon-Ti nearest them weren't all as lucky, several being impaled on the figure's wings, the rest flying into the distance from the impact.

The warriors that weren't knocked out of the way by his spinning, sentient mace tried to recover and retaliate, but the huge figure stamped a foot on the ground and screamed at them, forcing their ears to bleed from the sound. A nearly tangible feeling of hatred and death pushed at them, forcing them to fly backwards as a foul wind from the Abyss itself tore at them.

Aya got to her feet, and promptly rushed at the figure. Ken raced alongside her, baring his teeth at the thing as they neared. Kale, now finally being able to do something, swiftly slung his bow over his shoulder once more, slipped his hands into the claws within each pocket of his jacket, and ran at the figure from the other direction.

To their surprise, the figure spoke to them in a hissing, growling speech. "Foolish living meat!"

It rose into the air as huge, ghostly swords without handles formed out of the night air, and began circling around his huge, terrifying form. It floated toward Ken and Aya with its huge wings made of pure shadow outstretched, the swords spinning around the figure quickly gaining speed. The huge, glowing and ghostly blades lashing out one by one in rapid succession to strike at them before returning smoothly to their respective orbits.

Kale had to stop as he ducked and wove around the spinning blades, and almost dodged a strike from the smaller, spinning figure, rolling with the impact so that he wasn't impaled by the bladed wings. Even so, he spun lazily through the air from the impact, twisting his body in mid-air to land on all fours.

Aya simply stood in place, parrying each of the bladed strikes precisely as they lashed out at her with unearthly speed. Ken did the same, though he was cut a few times by a blade or two he couldn't quite parry in time. Both forced themselves flat on the ground as the bladed figure swept overhead, leaping to their feet once it passed. They had to each dive in separate directions as the smaller figure spun back around, flying at them from behind. It continued in its arc as it passed beneath the larger figure's body, and back up around, preparing for another attack.

The huge figure laughed savagely into the night sky. "Now, all of you will die painfully, knowing that you are only food for more worthy beings!"

Ophelia had lay where she landed, fighting unconsciousness as best she could. She managed to open her eyes and force herself back to consciousness, seeing the figure land, attack, and hover above the troops, slaying them one by one. She closed her eyes and took a few deeply painful breaths to calm herself for what she knew she must do. Despite the pain of her punctured lung, she took a deep breath, stoking her inner essence like bellows to a furnace.

Her Caste Mark, a golden dot inside a larger golden circle appeared and glowed on her forehead as she pressed the long barrel of her firewand against her forehead, concentrating. The barrel of the firewand began to glow softly as whitish blue flames appeared on it, flickering as they spread over the entire weapon. The essence around her began to grow visible as streams and currents of the energy flowed around and through her, brightening, and eventually becoming the same azure fire that burned over the firewand pressed against her forehead. The flames seemed to dance over her body as she drew more and more essence into herself, lightning arcing from her Caste Mark and firewand to the ground around her.

The huge figure in the sky noticed that nine large and thin azure rings now surrounded it, each spinning swiftly and silently different directions. It swiftly looked around with baleful red eyes to see who had done such a thing, when he noticed Ophelia pointing her firewand at him with her eyes closed, the firewand still burning the same azure fire right before she fired with an echoing crack, sounding much larger than the other firewands had sounded earlier tonight.

The bolt grew swiftly in size as it left the barrel of her firewand, the normal reddish glow of a firewand bolt brightening and growing into a bluish white. Four long, large ghostly swan's wings surrounded the bolt, speeding unerringly toward the dark figure floating in the night sky, as the nine azure rings began to align.

The Mask of Winters swiftly moved to the side, but it was as if he never moved at all: the white and azure fireball was still growing in size, and was aiming itself unerringly toward him. He saw that another ring had aligned with the first two, and the others were beginning to slow their spin as they began their arcane alignment. In desperation, he moved again, further this time as he already began to feel the awful heat of the fireball as it neared.

Again, it was as if he hadn't moved at all - the fireball was still speeding directly at him. With growing apprehension, he noticed that two more of the rings had aligned themselves while he had attempted to evade the shot, and the rest had begun as well, slowing down as they did. In growing apprehension, he flew straight upwards as high and as far as he could, hoping to outrun it. For some reason, he felt a small fear begin gnawing at him as he saw that he wasn't outflying the huge, winged fireball.

Time suddenly stopped, but the Mask of Winters found that he still felt, and could think. The last ring had aligned itself now, forming a large, glowing azure target in the sky with him in the exact center. The huge fireball was barely an inch away from the Defiler's body, still burning with intense heat. Everything around him was silent. Nothing was moving, but he could still notice these things.

Out of the corner of his eye, a tiny humanoid figure with wings of pure azure fire appeared in front of the ninth ring. Another appeared, and took its place in the obscure order by the eighth ring. Seven more of the figures appeared, one by one, as they took their places amongst the rings that surrounded him.

They all began to sing at once; a single quiet note almost too soft to hear properly. If he could move, he would have winced from the sharply beautiful noise. It set his nerves on edge.

The singing quietly began to gain strength.

It was difficult for him to think now through the noise. With shock, he realized that each intonation and each reverberation in the singing matched the frequency of his own soul. The singing was making him feel less connected to the world around him, causing him to shudder within the depths of his mind.

The singing grew a little louder.

He felt his control over the Defiler beginning to slip, its mind beginning to awaken. He felt the strand of pure essence that bound Nemilette to him beginning to unravel. Even the whispers from his Malfean patron seemed more distant now.

The singing grew steadily louder.

The Mask of Winters found it was difficult to think of anything now through the noise. He couldn't focus his attention on anything else, other than the eerily beautiful singing.

The singing grew unbearably loud.

The intensity of the noise was too much to bear now. Incorporeal though he was, he felt his necklace that sharply lessened the time required to cast his spells feeling heavy on his chest, the essence used to attune it to him gone. His cloak felt heavy around him as well. All the other artifacts he carried returned to become substantial once more without his mental command, the essence he'd used to bind them to his will now removed.

Time resumed, and the fireball, now nearly as large as the Defiler itself, struck. The Mask of Winters heard the Defiler's scream as its bone and soulsteel body was being burned terribly. The flames hungrily consumed the Defiler's wings and hungrily immolated its body as well, causing it to fall helplessly back to the ground, claimed by gravity once more. He reformed into corporeality as the Defiler fell, gravity claiming him as its own as well. His own dark essence seemed reluctant to come to his aid, flowing much more slowly than normal as he fell, watching the Defiler frantically try to flap wings that were no longer there as it attempted to slow its descent.

As the ground swiftly approached, he saw the gathered army the renegade had gathered eagerly awaiting their arrival. He certainly hoped the Defiler was angry about losing its wings, and still had the strength to devour a few soldiers. If it did, then it would regain its former glory. For now, this seemed to be a minor setback to his plans. Fortunately, he had planned for just such a dire occasion, and began chanting the spell to allow him to levitate once more.

With an impact that shook the ground, the flames on the Defiler finally went out. It rose painfully to its feet as he floated above the ground once more, and saw that he and the Defiler were now surrounded. He could see around him on all sides, seeing the grim look and feeling the surface thoughts of each being that stood around him.

The Mask of Winters focused on his former general first; the turncoat; the renegade. Sunlight seemed to illuminate her black, leathery-looking and partially torn armor, and the slightly curving blades she held within each hand as she stared coldly at him, her surface thoughts seeming to burn into his mind. _You never made me cry out, fool, not once. Revenge has found you for everything you've done._

He focused on the man next to her, glaring at him with dark brown eyes, and unruly hair, long claws worn over each fist. _You were responsible for killing my mother and father with your sickness. You took the woman I love away from me, and hurt her badly. Payback's a bitch, ain't it, you weak and whiny piece of decomposed rat shit!_

The huge, jaguar-like being who held a large, iron mace whose head was that of a dragon in one hand, and a large shield in the other glared hatefully at him. _You took my mother, father, brothers, sister, and my humanity away from me, forcing me to become that which I despise just so I could survive. I kept myself going only with the thought that I would slay you one day. Now, I finally get the chance to pay you back for_ everything _you've taken from me!_

The equally huge figure next to the Jaguar Lunar was a Lunar as well, carrying the totem of Wolf, it appeared. The being snarled at him, his animalistic thoughts being harder to read, but the intent was obvious. _You are a blight that Luna cannot abide! I will_ rend _you!_

Slightly off in the distance, a young boy with green skin, and bark covering his shoulders and neck had an arrow nocked and aimed at his head. The boy's expression was cold as he stared. _Because of you and your foul minions, my mother and father were slain. May something far worse than death await you._

The Mask of Winters stamped his foot against the ground as he channeled the dark essence within him, creating a small pocket of Oblivion around him that swiftly collapsed, forcing all his would-be assailants to fly backwards through the air once more. The Defiler growled from deep within it's burnt chest, focusing its hunger and anger on these new targets. The Mask of Winters smiled behind his mask. Oh no, all was not lost.

He saw the spiky-haired man with claws racing toward his back, making no noise. He swiftly turned and punched the air in front of him. A claw made of pure consuming energy of the Abyss formed in front of the man, manifesting his punch as an order of magnitude stronger as it reached for him. The Mask of Winters smiled coldly. "Did you not know that I see everything, fool?"

The man dodged desperately out of the way of the huge claw made of pure nothingness, and kept trying to run at him. Another gust of wind from the Abyss itself forced the man to fly backwards through the air, landing heavily on his back many yards away.

The Mask of Winters laughed to the dark sky above. "My beautiful creation, my Defiler! It's mealtime for you, my hungry servant!"

The Defiler hissed, and raced toward the Lunar with Jaguar as his totem on all fours, moving with shocking speed. The Defiler licked it's skinless mouth with a tongue made of pure shadow as it ran, scattering the Alon-Ti soldiers and mercenaries like branches before a gale.

He saw his former general racing at him with her blades outstretched, a look of cold concentration on her pale face. The Mask of Winters nonchalantly put his palm up, which vomited a black, viscous substance that flew toward her. To his minor surprise, she simply darted out of the way, and kept coming.

Seeing behind him, he beheld the two Lunars and many soldiers with firewands that now fought the Defiler, which he knew only made the artificial being hungrier. He smiled to himself as he saw the Defiler devour a soldier in azure and golden armor. Some of its burnt and blackened skin began to heal as the living morsel was devoured, the mortal's screams of despair echoing across the battlefield.

He almost shook his head as he saw the man with spiky brown hair, and his former general were still coming toward him. He called out to them before he struck once again, to remind them of the utter futility of what they were attempting. "Fools! Do you really think you can fight against the inevitable demise of life?"

The Mask of Winters manifested the large, ghostly swords around him once again, which lashed out with terrifying speed at his would-be attackers. The man barely seemed to move as he dodged, the blades passing around him as if they were supposed to miss anyway. His former general simply parried the blades as they moved to strike her, and kept running.

He narrowed his eyes. They should have learned their place now, and besides, he had that wretch who dared to shoot him to deal with yet. In rapid succession, all ten of the swords lashed out to strike at the man, who dodged as he ran. He couldn't quite dodge all of them, the final two slicing deeply into his body. The Mask smiled as the man stumbled to a stop.

As for his former general, it was time for her to learn her folly. She was racing rapidly toward him, ready to strike at him. The blades attacked her in rapid succession now. He narrowed his eyes behind his mask as she kept parrying the first nine seemingly without effort, and dodging out of the way of the last one. He forced space to fold around him, suddenly standing directly in front of her, and spinning himself sideways and backwards through the air as the swords orbited. She managed to dodge the first blade, but the second one caught her. She was repeatedly knocked into the air by the others as they cut her, unable to prevent the inevitable. With a casual wave of his hand, a huge blast of Abyssal wind knocked her backwards, the hungry wind clawing and tearing at her very being as it forced her through the air.

There now, the two Lunars' attentions were constructively directed toward his Defiler, which meant that he could now look for the fool who dared to disrupt his plans. He floated over the rough ground, looking for an Exalt with a firewand. He smiled as he saw Ophelia. With the eyes of a ghost, he could see that her right eye was now glowing red as death neared, and glowed brighter as he approached. Yes, her being knew that death was coming for her. A small unit of soldiers in azure and gold armor ran at him with blades outstretched, but a wave of his hand caused the winds of the Abyss to scour their bodies of all life. They collapsed to the ground with a clanking noise, their bodies now shrunken and decayed, their armor aged and worn from the terrible power of Oblivion.

All the ghostly blades that circled him gathered in the air to face point-down as he focused his all-seeing sight on the Exalt with the firewand once more, all directly over her chest. Her eyes slowly opened as she saw what was happening, and opening wider in fright. He could taste her fear now as she looked at him, and saw the blades above her that were about to claim her life. "You fight against the inevitable triumph of death itself, foolish meat. Tell me, before I slay your body and claim your soul, why you resist?"

Her breath came in gasps as she tried to pull out her firewand. At his casual mental command, one of the blades sliced off the hand that held it. He shook his head at her as he smiled, admonishing her. "Now now, we can't be having that again. Answer my question before, or after I kill you. It makes little difference to me."

Her voice was rasping as she tried to answer between wheezing breaths. "I...resist...because I must."

The Mask of Winters smiled again. "I'll get the rest of your reason after I have you on my table. For now, say goodbye to your failed experiment at living."

To his surprise, the blades above her shattered into pieces of dusky glass, the essence powering their existence calcified. Behind him, and off to the left, a man approached. He carried no weapons, but had a grim look on his face. "She must stop you, as must we all."

The Mask of Winters narrowed his eyes as he faced this man. "You are blind, fool. You think yourself learned and wise, but you do not see what is right in front of you - I usher in a new age on this world, one devoid of life. This will be as close to perfection as is possible, and Thorns is only the beginning."

With that, he tried re-invoking the ghostly blades, but a wave of the man's hand counterspelled it, shattering the still-forming blades into shards of dusky glass that rained down all around them. The air around them became charged, as opposite forms of essence fought against one another. The Mask of Winters laughed. "You may be able to disrupt my spells, Solar, but you cannot stop what you cannot anticipate."

With that, the Mask of Winters gave a casual wave of his hand upward, causing a gust of Abyssal wind to rise from the Shadowland, lifting the surprised Solar high into the air, his clothing and skin being torn and frozen by the hungry Abyss. He was about to wave casually downwards to cause the same wind to force him back down, when he was suddenly struck from behind. He felt a sharp pain burning and tearing into his back before pulling away. He turned around to see who would dare strike him, especially when he never noticed his assailant approach. He saw it was the same man with claws on his hands, and the unruly, spiky brown hair. The man smiled grimly at him. "Surprise, bitch."

The Mask of Winters looked at the man coldly. "I know not how you managed to sneak up on me, but have no doubt in your tiny, insignificant mind that such a thing will not go unpunished."

A casual wave of his hand caused a huge breath of Obliviate wind to rise upward from the ground, but the man had darted out of the way too quickly to be snared. With a yell, the man tried to strike once more, but another wave of the Mask of Winters' hand stopped the blow cold, freezing the man's hand with the hungry winds of Oblivion. He smiled as he began to wave his hand again, but the man dodged this gust of wind just as nimbly, a look of determination on his face. The Mask of Winters narrowed his eyes at the man's stubbornness.

Suddenly, the man began to move like a hungry flame, moving with inhuman speed as he struck. Pockets of Oblivion formed around the Mask of Winters' hands as he parried each swift strike, but it was requiring all his attention to keep up with the man's furious strikes. In time, however, he knew the man would exhaust himself, the essence allowing him to move so quickly and so furiously exhausted. Until then, he'd simply keep wearing the man down.

From behind him, he saw and heard the Defiler scream in pain. His renegade general and the two Lunars, along with scores of their mortal soldiers were destroying it with surety now, though they hadn't done so unscathed. He narrowed his eyes. It had taken him years to craft such a beautiful artifact, and he was loathe to do so again. Unfortunately, this also meant that the bestial Lunars' attentions were no longer constructively channeled.

Sighing with impatience, he decided to end the pointless fight with this sneaky Solar now, since he had larger problems to deal with. As he parried the man's strikes with ease, he summoned a hungry, animalistic wraith from the Underworld below. This thing was too bestial to be really used constructively, so he had simply locked it into a room until he had figured out how to deal with the gluttonous wraith. Now, however, it would serve as an excellent distraction. Answering his call, it eagerly rose out of the Underworld and into this world right beside him, invisible to mortal eyes. The Mask of Winters smiled as the hungry, predatory wraith turned its attention on the man, still swiftly striking.

His smile faded as he saw the man had noticed the wraith, and narrowed his eyes. He leapt back, channeling his essence. The wraith followed him, but stopped suddenly in fear at what it had felt from the man. The man's hands and claws were't glowing a soft yellow any longer, they were now glowing a soft white of incorporeal, ghostly energy. The man leapt at the wraith, dodging the wraith's first hungry strike, and tore a large hole in the wraith's being. The wraith screamed as its corpus was devoured into the man's hands, changing it into essence. Within moments, the wraith's being had been destroyed, which unfortunately meant it could rejoin its higher soul once more. The Mask of Winters frowned as he motioned toward the man, throwing him back and upwards into the air, the Obliviate wind tearing at him hungrily.

The Mask of Winters frowned as he saw the two Lunars, his former general, and the green-skinned boy racing toward him. He concentrated again, casting the spell to re-invoke his ghostly blades, but the spell shattered within his grip as dusky glass began to rain down again. He glared at the Solar who had disrupted his spell, when he realized that the same nine azure rings were spinning around him once more. He turned to raise a hand at the dying woman with the firewand, but she had already fired. As the huge fireball approached him for the second time, he desperately tried to calcify the air around him to absorb most of the shot's strength, but felt his grip on the spell shatter. Dusky glass was beginning to cover the bare ground below.

The singing of those damnable things wasn't quite as bad this time, but the fireball hadn't hit him directly before. It burned terribly, and didn't go out right away. The force of the blast had knocked him higher into the air, his movement temporarily out of his control. With surprise, he saw the man with unruly hair was descending upon him from his fall, and was aiming directly at him. The Mask of Winters blocked the man's glowing fist, but wasn't able to block the second, which forced him downward this time.

Too late, he saw the jaguar-like Lunar already swinging his mace as he approached the ground swiftly. He tried to fold space once again, and had actually caused the space between he and his destination to shrink when the blow struck, knocking him backward once again. He began to get angry as these pathetic fools were trying to damage him.

Before he landed, he saw his former general slicing upward with both blades. For a split second, time seemed to stand still once more. He was still lying mostly prone in midair, but he was staying in one spot as seven beings began to surround him. He tried to move, or even channel his essence, but found that it didn't respond.

The first to speak was a tall, thin, grim looking man with blue skin and short white hair. The man glared at him as he spoke, a low wind punctuating his words. "I remember you, savant. You were the one who summoned the Yozi's servants I gave my life killing. Now, I get to... _thank_ you properly for it."

The second to speak was a large, reptilian-looking being standing at least nine feet tall. It had a large, stocky body, with plates of bone covering his chest, back, legs, and arms, and the top of its head. A large, thick tail with a mace-like bulb at the end swished slowly from side to side behind him. The being didn't mince its words, growling words that sounded like huge boulders being ground together by mighty unseen hands. "We serve the Sun, and the Sun favors you not. You have no honor to challenge!"

The third being was a tall, stocky woman with brunette hair, and pale skin. She smelled strongly of the earth after it rained, the scent growing stronger as she glared at him. "Oh, I've been waiting a very long time for this, traitor. Don't think we don't know what you did, turning your back on everything you were to become what you are."

The fourth was a tall, broad man with short, flame red hair, reddish-brown skin, and smoke pouring from his mouth and nostrils. An expression of unadulterated rage illuminated his face, smoke pouring more heavily from his mouth as he spoke, nearly spitting the words at the Mask of Winters. "I found out it was you that betrayed my General to the Yozi's servants, and I've been waiting a very long time to set you on fire. I'm going to _deeply_ enjoy burning you!"

The fifth had brownish-green skin, and long, green hair. She looked at him with slight distaste. "You work toward everything I despise in your fool's quest for power, ingratiating yourself in another's favor to get it, like the slug you are. You think death is superior to life? Keep thinking that as living things strip your branches bare!"

The Mask of Winters looked somewhat disturbed now. He still couldn't call upon his essence, in this brief hiccup of time.

The sixth spoke from his right side. He had tan skin, and a clean-shaven head, looking peacefully at the Mask of Winters. "That which you have given to karma, karma gives back to you sevenfold."

The seventh and last was a woman that reminded him very much of his renegade general, but with much shorter black hair. She glared at him distastefully. "You've served your purpose of causing trouble to the world. Now, your time is up."

Six of them swung weapons at him, the man with the shaven head aiming a kick at him. Right before they connected, time resumed once more, just in time for Aya's blades to bite deeply into his undead body.

Fire, wind, and bright light engulfed him. He hardened his body against a few of the strikes, but he wasn't able to prevent all of them from landing grievous wounds on his Oblivion-infused form. Through the darkness escaping from within him, he saw that many of their Exalted were attacking in rapid succession. He frantically parried or attempted to counter each strike, but one strike bit deeply into his being for every two he managed to avoid.

The darkness within him escaped in shrieking gales as he was surrounded on all sides, each strike that landed upon his undead frame rending his being horribly. The air around them became lightless and empty as Oblivion filled the area, but the darkness was pierced repeatedly by flashes of sunlight, and the ghostly fires of Luna as his assailants kept attacking, faster than he could defend himself. It had happened so quickly, he thought. Too soon, his form was destroyed utterly, sending the soul within his rent body back to the Underworld. Right before his undead body and his soul parted ways, he expended the last of his essence, causing a dark, swirling, explosion of the energy that had unmade worlds around his being.

The Mask of Winters' form was damaged far too badly to hold its shape, hitting the ground and dissolving at the same time as the explosion of dark Obliviate energy was released from all the essence he had left. His mask and his shroud were all that remained.

Aya, Golgol, and Ken got to their feet first, though painfully. The last dark explosion had rent their armor and flesh, leaving horrible wounds, frozen by the touch of the Abyss. The three of them checked the area carefully for any sign of another attack, and then began to help the others to their feet. Morjin was already crawling painfully toward Ophelia, pulling her back from the brink of death.

After sitting up painfully, Kale nodded to the mask on the ground. "What should we do with that?"

Ken growled. "I will take it as a souvenir, to remember all those I've lost because of him!"

Aya shook her head. "No."

Everyone looked at her, some with surprise, though Ken with anger. She spoke after a few more moments, still staring at it. "I have as much against him as any of you. He took my father away from me, corrupted my mother, and helped me hand him responsibility for all the people I've slain in his name. He has directly or indirectly damaged many families, slain many people that so many others hold dear. Let his mask remain here as a warning against those who would think of doing such a thing again."

The others nodded at this, realizing the wisdom of her words. Aya shook herself to bring her mind back to the present, and focused her attention and her voice on all the troops under her command. "It is done. Thorns is free, and the one-time Deathlord, the former Mask of Winters has fallen!"

Everyone, tired, wounded, and weary though they were, yelled out their victory to the sky, just as the Eastern horizon began to lighten with the impending sunrise.


	59. Remembering Those Who Fell

Morjin, Gordray, and others skilled in the healing arts attended to the wounded as the soldiers made camp right where they were on the battlefield, exhausted. The soldiers were pitching tents and making campfires as best they were able, sharing food, drink, smoke, and thoughts with one another as they slowly realized the battle was completely over. Their adrenaline of the many horrors they faced during the long night was fading away, leaving some of them shaking as they realized what they had just faced and been through.

Kale had collapsed unconscious after the Mask of Winters had fallen. Having been very close to the Mask of Winters as the explosion of dark Obliviate energy burst forth, his body was torn and frozen in many places. Once the adrenaline of the battle had ebbed away, his many injuries caught up with him as he fell into the darkness of unconsciousness.

Having spotted him collapse before anyone else did, Aya was at his side immediately after she announced that the war was over, tending to his wounds and spreading blankets over them to bring his body temperature back to normal. He awoke after only an hour, though sounded hoarse from one of the Obliviate winds that had torn into his throat. He opened one eye to see her anxiously looking at him, and smiled slightly at the sight.

She was dirty, her face streaked with ash, blood and dirt, her long, fine black hair knotted in sweaty tangles around her head, but he'd never seen anything so beautiful. His voice was hoarse and dry, but intelligible. "Are you a beautiful goddess here to take me into my next life, or are you the gorgeous woman I love waking up next to?"

Aya smiled as she gently stroked his face. She had been around him long enough to fully appreciate the fun to be found in a friendly battle of wits, and was now able to keep up. She broke into a grin as she answered, feeling relieved at seeing him awake. "Good morning, you handsome man. We nurses aren't allowed to sleep with our patients, but I just can't help myself."

Kale kept up with her, adopting a look of injured innocence. "I'm sorry I gave you the wrong impression, nurse. The woman who has half my heart is a general, and she'd probably kick your ass and mine both if she found out."

Aya looked around cautiously before conspiratorially whispering breathily into his ear. "After all the hard work I put into pitching a tent, cleaning and healing your wounds, and wrapping you up? Oh no, she'll have to deal with it."

Kale chuckled softly as he looked into her eyes, lifting his head slightly to kiss her lips. She briefly but passionately kissed him back before pulling away, looking at him with half-lidded eyes. He smirked slightly before speaking. "Isn't the gallant hero supposed to be saving the maiden in distress?"

She grinned at him as she went back to gently stroking his face. "Fair's fair, my beloved. Besides, I still owe you one."

Kale raised an eyebrow. "Actually, this time would make us even."

She looked down her nose at him as she put a finger over his lips, but wasn't able to quite suppress her smile. "Shush, dearest. You're not supposed to argue with the person who saves your life."

He chuckled softly as he looked into her half-lidded eyes before they kissed once more. After a time, he pulled away, smiling at her questioning look and shaking his head as he began to run his fingers slowly through her hair. "I have to admit, I can't believe it's over. For a long time, I just thought the Mask of Winters would be the bane of my thoughts, never quite believing he'd be out of my life. But you organized and caused his downfall. By the Sun, I love you."

She smiled at him, somewhat embarrassed. "What can I say? I'm a people person at heart."

Kale raised an eyebrow before suddenly reaching up to tickle her ribs.

Morjin rolled his eyes slightly as he heard a shriek of feminine laughter, followed by female giggling and male laughter coming from the tent Aya and Kale were inhabiting. He made a remark to one of Ken's mercenaries, a man also skilled in the healing arts. "I never believed I would say such a thing, but having a general of an army that's quite involved with one of her troops actually seems to be a good thing."

The man smirked as he carefully used a splint to re-align a soldier's broken leg. "Ah, she did her job well before and during the fight. What she does now is her own business, as long as it doesn't involve loud sex that keeps everyone awake."

Kale stopped tickling Aya as he heard the remarks outside. She sighed slightly, as she had heard them as well. "My dearest, I need to go help Morjin and the others heal the wounded."

Kale nodded, smiling. "Don't worry, love. I'll be fine. Just come back in time to feed me breakfast."

Aya shook her head, smirking before she lightly punched his shoulder. "I suppose you'd like a sponge bath as well?"

Kale nodded, looking innocent. "Yes please, and a massage too."

She chuckled before kissing him. "We'll see. I'll be back in a while. Rest well, my beloved."

Kale nodded, yawning already. He was asleep almost before his eyes closed.

Aya emerged from the tent, walking toward the wounded, now all laying on cots setup after the battle had been won. Morjin saw her with surprise, walking toward her once he had healed a soldier's broken leg properly. "Aya, you don't need to help us. I'm not saying we don't appreciate the thought, but you should feel free to be with your fiancee with no guilt."

She shook her head, looking at him solemnly. "I led them into injury and death, I should also help them to heal and recover. It's the least I could do."

Morjin nodded as she turned away, tending to the wounds of the next soldier. He shook his head, smiling as he walked away. "Stubborn woman," he said quietly as he smiled.

As most of the soldiers under his care had been looked after already, he walked back to check on the others that he still needed to keep an eye on. A large curtain had been set upright to block the sun and prying eyes from seeing them, for varying reasons.

The first in the small group of cots was Drannid. At the exact moment the Mask of Winters fell, Drannid had screamed aloud to the sky above, a blue brand alighting on his forehead as his form changed from the misshapen being he had become back into his former human shape. Morjin smiled at the thought of the old soldier being claimed by one of Luna's Essences to be given his Second Breath. The man deserved it, as he had fought as a mortal soldier all his life, surviving many events of hardship and suppression to survive. It seemed fitting that he be now Exalted, though it would probably come as a shock to him when he awoke.

The small form in the second cot was the Mask of Winters' daughter, Nemilette. He had reservations against this child, but he had felt and seen her Exalted Essence leave her at the same moment the Mask of Winters died. From what he'd been able to gather, her Essence was bound so securely to the Mask of Winters that his destruction had revoked her own nature as an Exalted being as well. What disturbed him the most about this child was that the Mask of Winters had found her in his Manse. When Morjin had finally found his previous incarnation's Manse after three hundred years of searching, he had found this tiny embryo floating in a large tube of bubbling, blue liquid. He had found little to nothing explaining what or who this tiny being was, but evidently the Mask of Winters had more success than he did at learning about her nature.

He would have to wait for her to awaken before he learned more. However, her upbringing as the child of the Mask of Winters made him a little nervous, especially since he had seen Aya slay the child right before the Mask of Winters was brought down, and yet the child was still alive. Many things about this child made him feel uneasy, but he was determined to understand her, as long as no lives had to be lost in the understanding.

The third cot was occupied by one of the two Abyssals thought to be still alive. The Abyssal's name was Kaesta, and it had surprised Morjin to hear Aya call this woman her mother. However, there was a strong family resemblance between the two, now that Morjin had looked more closely. The woman's black hair, delicate facial features, and basic body shape were both shared by the two women. However, Kaesta was of more average height for a woman and more voluptuous, and had brown eyes, rather than blue.

Kaesta's wounds had been healed successfully, though she was asleep again. Deciding to take a chance, he and Gordray drew upon their limited knowledge of Abyssal nature that they had learned from Aya's experience, and tried to communicate with Kaesta's Essence while she slumbered. To their surprise, it was still awake, but only just. Her Essence had been surprisingly understanding of their intentions, and had awoken her to renounce her Abyssal name and all she knew of her Abyssal nature, but she had fallen asleep afterward. Morjin felt that Kaesta and her Essence were now communicating in dreams, but Kaesta was now fully mortal once more. Her second Exaltation hadn't happened yet, which made Morjin worry. He thought darkly that just because it had happened to Aya didn't necessarily mean it would happen the same way with a different Abyssal. After all, Aya and her Essence were a special case, almost.

The fourth and final cot was occupied by Ophelia. She had been grievously wounded, and had nearly been killed by the blast let loose by the Mask of Winters as he fell. Her wounds were healing now, and she slept peacefully. Her breathing was back to normal, as her lung was the first thing Morjin healed. Though a good part of her body was now wrapped in bandages, she would be just fine when she finished healing. Morjin gave her a few days, at most, with his continued attention.

With a final close check on all the four patients, he decided to check on the other soldiers. Aya had efficiently bound and healed the wounds of many of the mortal soldiers under her command, and was finishing up the rest, which gave Morjin some time to himself. He decided to let Aya know about the four patients before he checked on the rest of the camp.

As he approached, she was talking with one of the patients as she fixed his broken right arm. "No, of course not. Your arm will be as good as before once I'm done."

The man looked worried. "Are ye sure, Sensei? Golgol would have my ass over a fire if he thought I couldn't hunt anymore."

Aya smiled at him as she carefully massaged the bones back into their proper place, and forcing them to reunite. "Just give it a few days, and it'll be just like it was before, especially if I have anything to say about it." She looked at him with a confident smile. "Which I do."

Morjin smiled as he heard the exchange. "Aya, when you have a moment, I'd like to speak with you about a few patients."

She nodded to him, looking at him briefly before looking back to the soldier. "There you are, almost all better. Just don't do anything strenuous with that arm for a few days, and it'll be as good as new."

The soldier smiled at her sleepily. "Thank you, Sensei."

She smiled back at him. "You passed your test to become a full member of the Alon-Ti by your actions during the battle, Jurath. I am no longer your teacher."

The man smiled as he fell asleep.

Aya walked up to Morjin, a questioning look on her face. He sighed softly. "Perhaps it's better if you just see our four special patients."

She nodded, but gave him a dubious look before walking with him to the enclosed area, darkened by the blankets. Her reaction changed as she saw each of the four, the look on her face changing from a wide smile as she saw Drannid, a look of shock as she saw Nemilette, a soft smile as she saw her mother, and a wider smile as she saw Ophelia. She looked back at Nemilette afterward, looking shocked once again. She spoke in a soft whisper, so as to not wake any of the patients. "I could have sworn I killed her. Again."

Morjin led her a distance away from the patients so that they could speak more easily. "Nemilette is...a very unusual being. The Mask of Winters gave her a portion of his own Essence to force her to Exalt, which left her bound tightly to him. Once he died, her Exaltation was removed. However, as long as he was still - well, not alive, but at least moving - she would simply reform upon dying. Now, she is...well, she is what she was before, which isn't quite human."

Aya's eyebrows rose at this.

Morjin continued. "The Mask of Winters found her in my Manse once he raided it. I had found her before, a tiny embryo floating in a tube of bluish, bubbling liquid, but I didn't know who or what she was. I was able to determine, however, that the Mask of Winters gave her a portion of his blood and yours, which caused her to gain shape and form, growing swiftly into who you see now. It was for that reason alone that she looks somewhat like you, as she has part of your pattern within her."

Morjin shook his head. "All traces of Oblivion are absent from her now, for which I'm quite grateful. She is mortal once again, which means she won't reform once she dies. However...I still don't know exactly what she is, or what she's capable of. All I do know is that in my previous incarnation, I created her. To what end, I do not know."

Aya looked stunned, looking in the distance at the covered cots. "If she gets violent, do you think you can calm her down, or otherwise contain her?"

Morjin smiled wryly. "Yes, I can. It will take me years, but I think I can heal her mind and soul, and discover her secrets."

Aya nodded thoughtfully, looking him steadily in the eyes. "She may not be my daughter in reality, but please, let me know what you find."

Morjin nodded to her, smiling. "Very well."

The rest of the day, the soldiers slept, or talked quietly amongst themselves, just reveling in the fact that though they had seen some of their companions and friends die, they had faced an incarnation of death and lived.

Ken and Golgol talked with one another throughout the day, sometimes angrily. For the most part, Golgol was telling Ken about Lunar culture, traditions, and values, some of which didn't sit well with Ken. After many hours of heated discussion however, Ken had agreed to visit the Lunar village in the Northern woods once things were finished here.

As the last of the sleeping soldiers were waking up in the eveningtime, Aya called out to everyone. "Everyone, please gather here, in the center field."

Questioningly, the soldiers, mercenaries, and others gathered. Once she had seen everyone arrive, she nodded in satisfaction. "First of all, I'd like to congratulate the Alon-Ti. You are no longer my students, as you have passed my final test - you faced your worst fears and some of the most terrible foes ever seen in these lands, and most of you are alive to talk about it. At the same time, remember the sacrifice of your companions, your friends, and your fellow students during the night. They gave their lives to help rid the world of the undead blight that took root here."

Everyone was silent as they remembered the companions that fell during the night. None of them fell due to cowardice or lack of ability, and for that reason, many heads bowed in respect to their fallen comrades.

Aya spoke up again after a minute of silence, having bowed her head in respect to the fallen as well. "There is another task I wish to accomplish, but this is strictly voluntary. If you choose to go your own way now and live your life, nobody will hold it against you. That being said, I intend on journeying into the shadowland, and destroying the last of the Deathlord's legacy. If by some dark miracle he does come back, I'm going to make very sure he has nothing and nobody to come back to. If you wish to accompany me and lend your skills, be suited up and armed by sunset tonight."

With that, she walked back toward the tent area, to check on the four sleeping patients. To her surprise, there was a strong, yellow glow fading from around Kaesta. As the glow faded, she took a deep, shuddering breath, and sat upright, blinking. Aya noticed that Kaesta's Caste Mark was prominent. However, it wasn't the black ring with a black dot in the middle, meant to signify her Abyssal Moonshadow Caste. It was a brilliant golden ring, with an equally brilliant golden dot in the center, signifying her status as a Solar Eclipse Caste, though her mark was fading into obscurity now.

Aya walked cautiously near to the cot, and looked at her mother, who was now rubbing her eyes before blinking, and looking around her. She seemed to be staring at the sunset, almost in reverence.

"Hi mom," Aya said quietly as she knelt down next to the cot.

Her mother looked swiftly at her in surprise, before smiling softly at her daughter. "Hi, Aya."

Aya looked at her mother cautiously. "What should I call you now?"

Her mother chuckled. "Mother, I'd hope. Failing that, Shara is my name once more. By all that's holy, nobody told me about that horrendous burning I'd be going through as my Essence came back."

Aya smiled, remembering her own experience. "Yeah. I felt like I was burning from the inside out when it happened to me."

Shara chuckled, shaking her head as she looked at her daughter with different eyes. It was as if the years and bad things had fallen away, but left their mark nonetheless - her tall, thin, coltish daughter was now a tall, slender, but muscularly tanned woman, a far cry from who she was only a few years ago. She looked at Aya, feeling ashamed as she remembered the past few years. "Can you ever forgive me, Aya?"

She was surprised as Aya smiled, and hugged her mother closely. "As long as you can forgive yourself for everything you've done, I can forgive you. I already have, mom."

Shara hugged her daughter back tightly, kissing her on the cheek as she pulled away with a slightly watery smile. "Somehow, I had hoped that you and I could be happy again. I tried to bury the hope as best I could, but..."

Aya chuckled. "I had many hopes I had to bury too, during those years. However, now they have a chance to grow, don't you think?"

Shara nodded, sniffling slightly. "Life's going to be quite a bit different than I thought it would be even a few months ago, that's for sure." She looked up at her daughter again, smiling softly. "I'm proud of you, you know. You did what I couldn't and wasn't willing to try."

Aya smiled a bit more, blushing slightly as she hugged her mother again. "Thanks, mom."

Shara looked at Aya with an arched eyebrow, looking concerned. "Yes, that reminds me. That young man who punched me last night; what do you know about him?"

Aya chuckled quietly, her eyes twinkling. "As a matter of fact, I know quite a bit about him."

Shara's eyebrows narrowed as she smiled primly. "Oh, good. And do you know where I could find him?"

Aya shook her head as she laughed, still looking her mother in the eyes. "On my side of the bed, probably."

Shara blinked, taken aback. "Wait a minute, you don't mean..."

Aya nodded, smiling softly as she thought of Kale. "He's the one who saved me from the Malfean, he's the one who helped plant the seed of doubt about what I was doing as an Abyssal, and he's the man I'm going to have at my side for the rest of my life."

Shara looked at Aya wide-eyed, before smiling slightly. "In that case, he and I need to have a little talk about hitting women before I let him call me 'Mom.'"

Aya smirked. "I think I'd like to be there when you do."

Noticing that the sun had set, Aya smiled grimly at the horizon before looking back at her mother. "Mom, get some rest and sleep well. I'm going to journey into the shadowland and destroy what's left of our former Lord's holdings."

Shara chuckled. "You never were one to do anything halfway, were you? Alright. Good luck, and look out for the wraiths; I think there are quite a few left."

Aya just smiled with eyes narrowed. "Oh, worry about them more than me."

Hearing her mother's chuckling as she left, Aya smiled as she walked toward the plains. With surprise, she noticed everyone was there, armored and armed. Kale grinned at her as she approached. "There you are, we were about to leave without you."

Aya smirked at him as her armor reformed around her, the Crissaegrim fading silently into existence at her hip once more. "Not likely. Oh, I have someone to introduce you to once we get back."

Kale raised an eyebrow in question, but she had already begun calling out orders to march. The four battalions reformed as one large force, marching into the shadowland surrounding the fallen town of Thorns.


	60. Unto the Setting Sun

Everyone was subdued as they marched into the inky, tangible darkness of the shadowland. Most had never been within one; the feeling of tangible shadows pressing upon them being a nearly claustrophobic experience. Of the few who had, most hadn't moved slower than a dead run through a shadowland in the past, with only one exception.

Most of the Alon-Ti and other mercenaries felt slightly afraid as they passed through such a place, the shadowland seeming to push them to go faster through it into the Underworld beyond. However, Aya never changed her pace or attitude as she went, projecting an air of calm confidence, which gave all the troops marching behind her a measure of calmness at seeing their general showing no fear or hesitation.

After five minutes of marching, they were through the shadowland, and into the lands of the dead: the Underworld. The march had felt like hours as they almost had to wade through the tangible shadows, but the Underworld to them was almost like a place out of nightmares. The sky above them, if indeed it could be called a sky, was pure, pitch black, though one could still see the lands around them dimly. Dark, ashen plains extended everywhere they could see. All noises within this place were muffled, but only selectively. Laughter was always subdued, while the cries of torment they heard from the castle in the distance seemed to echo for miles.

A small group of wraiths were patrolling the areas around the shadowland, but weren't taking their job very seriously with the Mask of Winters absent. They didn't notice the sound of many marching, living feet until the army was almost upon them.

One of them spoke to Aya, speaking in a strange, discordant voice. "Why do you lead the stench of the living to our lands, _renegade_?"

Aya called a halt, and stared evenly into the dark emptiness of the wraith's face. "Because your Lord has been destroyed, and we're going to finish the job properly."

The wraith made a hissing noise that sounded like a forgotten memory of laughter. "The Deathlords of this place are eternal, turncoat. What do you expect to accomplish?"

Aya stared at the wraith with an even look. "Making sure he has nothing to come back to."

The wraith was silent, the back of its intangible head changing places with the front as it looked at the castle in the distance. Its face stared eyelessly at Aya once more, nodding once before moving silently out of the way of the army, the other wraiths following suit.

The wraiths watched silently as the living army marched through the Underworld on a direct path to the Mask of Winters' seat of power here. Looking at one another after a few moments, they dropped the armor and weapons that denoted them as being in the service of the Mask of Winters, moving silently in separate directions in the lightless Underworld.

After only an hour more of marching with muffled footsteps, Aya called another halt at the foot of the castle, looking up as it rose into the darkness above. She lost herself in a few memories she had of this place before shaking her head to clear her mind, and turning to face her army. She projected her voice so that all could hear her properly. "We have twenty Exalts among us, and four hundred healthy soldiers. Alon-Ti, break off into groups of twenty, with a single Exalt as your twenty-first."

Predictably, Ken's human mercenaries surrounded him, with a few others joining other groups. Each of Ken's Dragon-Blooded mercenaries led a group, as did Golgol, Kale, and Aya herself. Once all the soldiers were grouped off, she nodded, projecting her voice once more. "Ten groups take the front entrance once I open it. Four more take the parade ground entrance to the left side of the castle from where we stand now, and the last five take the dungeon entrance on the right side. I'll take my group to the parade ground entrance to open the main doors. We meet at one hour intervals in the Deathlord's former throne room, in the center of the castle. Don't worry about finding it, it's quite hard to miss."

With that, she led her group to the left entrance. The two wraiths guarding the entrance attacked them on sight, but exploded into ash as firewand shots lit up their forms. Four of the soldiers chuckled quietly, exchanging copper coins as they reloaded their firewands. Aya gave them a few moments to have their fun in this dark, cheerless place before pressing onward.

They marched in single file through the corridors of the castle, now eerily empty and silent, but for a few token guards, which either left peacefully after speaking with Aya for a few moments, or were turned into ash by the firewands her group carried. Aya led them unerringly to the main gate, whose guards attacked. The cloaks they were wearing somehow made them immune to the fiery blasts of the firewand, so Aya struck them once each, her swords glinting with sunlight, to achieve the same result. She pulled the ropes to open the gates, and saw a few piles of ash near where the groups were gathered, and no apparent losses of the troops. She nodded to them as they marched through, going in different directions.

Aya decided to take the lower staircases, to ensure that nothing untoward still lurked in the darker areas below. She led her group past the dungeons to the well-hidden, shadowy entrance to the Cages.

The Cages were the nickname given to the large group of concentric rooms where the Mask of Winters kept the most destructive, most terrifying prisoners of war, victims, or others that he took a fancy to. Half of them were his own creations, though they were little more than ravenous things, with no real intelligence to speak of. The Mask of Winters normally gave victims to those that inhabited the Cages, if they displeased him in some way, whether the unfortunates were his underlings or not.

It took she and her squadron of Alon-Ti the better part of an hour to destroy the creatures left in this place. Most of the inhabitants simply attacked them. The others tried to use mesmerizing tricks to entice them into the room, trying to convince the troops to abandon the failed experiment at living, and join death's embrace. These last were promptly responded to with firewand blasts.

Afterward, Aya led her group back to the throne room, to await the others. She noticed that she had arrived first, which was no surprise, as she knew the castle better than anyone else here. However, she wasn't kept waiting long for the others to enter this place.

Golgol had a slightly irritated look on his face, more obvious now that he was still in his human shape. "The stink of decay in here is almost too much to bear."

Ken arrived shortly after Golgol had, and nodded his agreement. "It's a good reminder as to why the Deathlords should fall."

The others filed in, nearly filling the huge, cavernous throne room of the former Deathlord, each relating what they had seen, and what they had encountered as they explored the castle. Most had been relatively uneventful, but Kale and four of the Dragon-Blooded mercenaries were shaking their heads over what they had seen in the dungeons.

"That was disgusting," Kale said with surety. "That was disgusting and wrong." A few of his soldiers shuddered.

The Fire-Aspected mercenary Sunny nodded her agreement, smoke billowing from her nose as she snorted her derision. "Foul. Outright foul."

Ken raised his head, curious. "What did you see?"

Kale shook his head. "A few humans were still alive in there, if you can call it that. They were being kept alive for who knows how long just so they could be tormented more."

Sunny shook her head as well. "That one with his lower body missing, being...gnawed upon every day by those rats. I'm glad the Deathlord fell, that's something seriously heinous."

Ken narrowed his eyes. "Did you kill them?"

Sunny nodded grimly. "They begged us to."

Aya spoke up from the front of the throne room, overhearing all the conversations taking place. "Alright, anyone have anything to report before we split up again?"

The captains and troops looked at one another, shrugging. Aya nodded at this. "Very well. We meet back here in another hour. If anyone is more than fifteen minutes late, we will search your last known location, so speak up about where you're going."

The captains all chose a different hallway leading out of the throne room, Aya gaining a good idea of where each one led, and warning each captain about what they might encounter before she left as well.

Aya took a deep breath as she entered the Mask of Winters' personal quarters, with the armory in the doorway beyond. She scoured the former Deathlord's personal quarters first, finding many things of interest after her initial revulsion had subsided.

Amongst many books on magic and the occult, she found a loosely stacked roll of paper, filled with many strange drawings and notes, all apparently handwritten. She skimmed through the strange roll, being written in Old Realm, which looked indecipherable at first, though she began to remember how to read the old language. She raised her eyebrows as she discovered that this was written in the Mask of Winters' handwriting, detailing things he'd discovered about Nemilette. She rolled it back up, and stuck it in a sack.

She grabbed all the books on the occult and magic, thinking of Morjin as she did. All the strange objects and carvings she took as well, thinking that their arcane uses could be found out by Morjin better than anyone else she knew.

After she was done, she took one last look at the room, glancing back at her troops. "We search the armory next. After we come back through here, burn this room."

They nodded to Aya as they followed her into the armory beyond. Aya shook her head, thinking of the Mask of Winters' innate paranoia that led him to construct the castle's armory connected only to his own personal quarters.

Aya gave no more than a passing glance to the many rows of soulsteel arms and armor, though stopped as she found other, stranger items here. She found a complete suit of armor and a sword made of starmetal, which made her raise her eyebrows. She nodded to her troops, who put the armor in the sack they carried. She found a few starmetal weapons, and a few more moonsilver and orichalcum weapons, all of which were put into the sack as well. Aya smirked as she traded sacks with her troops, letting them carry the lighter one.

Noticing a room off to the side, Aya set down her sack, now nearly full of weapons and armor of various types, and opened the door cautiously. To her surprise, the small room was empty, except for a small table, with two pieces of paper side by side. One was written in an obscure script that she couldn't read, but the other was written in Old Realm. She picked it up, and read carefully, translating the words in her mind as she went.

_Seven there shall be at first,_  
joined by six more as they see the power and beauty of shadow  
the last shall be born when the surface regime  
run by foot soldiers playing at being kings  
loses its usurping leader, falling into disarray. 

_You shall know her by fortune and capture_  
hair black as the shadows, skin pale as death, eyes of ice  
cold as death, fast as an executioner's axe  
you will know her for her frozen heart  
and her destiny to lead armies. 

_At the thirteenth's behest, the fourteenth will ride_  
striking down a surface town beneath sword and claw  
there she will wait, like a spider awaiting flies  
drawing the foot soldiers who would be kings into her web  
when she is reborn as the fourteenth, the world shall end. 

_United the other thirteen shall be_  
following her command and banner  
turning the surface to beautiful darkness and shadow  
replacing chaotic life with peaceful death  
the Empress of Shadow shall reign over all. 

Aya's hands shook as she read the last lines of the note, swallowing with difficulty. She shook herself, rolling the paper into a scroll, and putting it into the sack the troops carried. They looked askance at their leader and teacher, at how subdued and troubled she looked, but wisely said nothing.

She only left the soulsteel items within the armory as she left; the items of the other Five Magical Materials were all taken, though there weren't too many within this place. Aya nodded to her troops as they left the Mask of Winters' personal quarters, and they set the room ablaze efficiently. She led them back to the throne room to await the others. Without warning, she was surrounded by shadow.

Aya saw and heard nothing now except for the cold whispering of shadows rubbing against one another. Looking around, she saw that there was nothing in this place except tangible, awakened shadow.

From the shadows all around her, a voice echoed. "yoU hAVe wrEStEd pOWer frOm tHE MAsk, aNd yOU hAVe SeEn wHAT yoU ArE fAteD to bEcOMe. tAkE hIS plACe AT my Side, AnD hE shALl beCOme YOuR sErVAnt."

Aya narrowed her eyes in the darkness. She needed no time to give her answer. "Not a chance."

The voice of the Malfean grew louder, slightly angry-sounding now in this place of nothingness and shadow. "I WIll FORgIVE yOUR pASt REbellION if yOU ACCept NoW."

Aya shook her head, her face grim. "No. I am now what I wished to become, especially after learning what was supposed to happen."

The voice screamed at her, but she didn't listen. She concentrated instead on the shadows, drawing on the light of the Sun within her to drive away the darkness. Her Caste Mark lit up the darkness as her anima began to shine like a star, causing the shadows to recede. The shadows coalesced into a large cloaked figure, though she saw she was still in the throne room of the Mask of Winters, the other soldiers looking less nervous now that the shadows were retreating.

The figure, wrapped in a cloak of pure, undulating shadow spoke once more. "i gIVe yOu tHE chAnCE to RUle oVEr thE lAnds of lIGht ANd ShADow, bUt yoU REFusE mE!"

Aya shook her head, looking scornfully at the figure. "My destiny has changed. I carry light within me now, not shadow. I do not wish to rule over anything except myself."

With a shrieking, angry noise, the figure dissipated. Aya noticed Ken looking at her slightly suspiciously. "What was your destiny supposed to be?"

Aya shuddered slightly, shaking her head. "Please believe me when I say you'd rather not know."

Ken continued looking at her evenly before leading his troops out. "I already do."

Aya looked askance at him as he left, but didn't call him back or reply. The patrols scoured the rest of the castle, slaying most they encountered, letting those that wished to leave in peace do so. When they were satisfied that the castle had been scoured, Aya hailed a group of wraiths that were still leaving. "Hold! I would speak with you!"

The wraiths floated toward her, the incredulity they felt being obvious from their bearing. "What does a Solar wish to do with us?"

Aya smiled slightly. "Do you know where the largest group of spectres are in this area?"

One of the other wraiths spoke up with a low voice, like echoing water into a canyon. "If we attract their attention, they will destroy everything around here for miles."

Aya smiled a little more. "Do you think they could destroy the castle?"

The first wraith chuckled with a dry, scratching noise. "I see your plan now, fleshwalker. When?"

Aya nodded to the shadowland beyond. "When the last of my army disappears into the shadowland, go and attract the spectres. If possible, make them truly angry at the castle, to ensure its destruction. It shouldn't be too difficult, as they weren't very happy with the Mask of Winters to begin with."

The second wraith spoke once more. "You speak sense for one with flesh. I've been waiting three hundred years for this time to arrive."

Aya grinned. "The spectres have too, unless I'm missing my guess."

The wraiths nodded to her, and she nodded back before leading her army back into the shadowland. As the last of the troops emerged into the surface lands from the dark and shadowy place, they heard echoing, angry, inhuman screams of rage growing louder from the other side of the shadowland.

Aya nodded almost absent-mindedly. "Post a patrol by the shadowland; some of the spectres might try to get out."

An hour later, the sun rose, and Aya's voice greeted everyone gathered on the plains surrounding the fallen town of Thorns. "Good morning all! Gather by the front gate of Thorns, I have a few announcements."

It took a good twenty minutes, but all the soldiers, wounded or not, were gathered. Aya smiled as she saw Shara, Ophelia, and Drannid among the crowd. "To all the Alon-Ti, I say this: you are now true Tiger Warriors. Your life and destiny is your own now. The undead menace is gone, it's base of power broken. I salute you all as true Alon-Ti!"

Wild cheers broke out at this, which made Aya grin. She simply waited for them to stop celebrating and congratulating each other, which took a good twenty minutes of raucous noise. After they finished, she continued.

"Here is where we must part ways. Alon-Ti, you are very capable warriors, planners, strategists, it should be a simple matter for you to settle wherever you wish. I thank all of you deeply, for without you, Thorns would still be standing. Alon-Ti, you needn't bow to anyone."

With that, she got down on one knee, and bent her head toward the gathered force. To all the gathered Alon-Ti's surprise, all the other Exalted beings among them did the same. The moment was quickly broken by a single Alon-Ti yelling out, "Oh come on now, you'll make me blush!"

This made most of the gathered people crack up laughing, as the solemn moment had passed, the people breaking up into groups, most wandering around talking to everyone else. Breakfast was made for everyone, as it became both a celebration and a farewell.

That night, Kale and Aya were packing up their things as they prepared to leave, going back to what both of them thought as home. Aya stood bolt upright, realizing she had forgotten about her mother. "Hey Kale, I want you to meet someone."

Kale looked at her with a raised eyebrow as he rolled up the tent. "And this someone would be...?"

She just grinned at him, as she grabbed his hand. "Come on."

With an exaggerated sigh, he followed her. When she looked back at him though, he was shaking his head and smiling. She led him over to where Morjin and Shara stood.

Shara looked much different than she did even a day ago. She wore simple peasant's clothes now, and no makeup. She was laughing heartily at something Morjin had said as they approached. Morjin spotted them, and smiled. "Well, hello!"

Kale and Aya both smiled, though Shara raised an eyebrow as she saw Kale. She hid a smile as she saw the two of them comfortably holding hands. She adopted a stern look. "So, you were the one who punched me. Do you have anything to say for yourself?"

Kale blinked as he looked at her. She looked familiar, but he couldn't say how or why. "Do I know you?"

Shara turned her head to the side, and lifted her hair out of the way to show where four clumps of hair had been ripped out by his claws during the battle. "Look familiar now?"

Kale's eyes opened wide. "How the hell...?"

Aya squeezed his hand as she smiled at him. "Love, meet my mother, Shara."

Kale looked back and forth at the two of them in surprise, not knowing what to say. He began to see the definite family resemblance between the two as he looked.

Aya chuckled as she looked at him, amused, before looking at Shara. "Why mother, I've never seen him at a loss for words before!"

Shara chuckled as she walked up to Kale to stare directly into his eyes. Her smile faded away, replaced by a stern look, one with steel in it this time. "After all you've done for my daughter, you and she have my blessing. However, if you ever make her cry or hurt her in any way, I'll make you cry. Got it?"

Kale nodded seriously. "I'd sooner harm myself." He smirked wryly. "Does this mean I can call you 'mom' now?"

Shara chuckled as she shook her head at him. "He's an odd one, Aya, but I think he fits you just fine."

Aya glanced at Kale before she smiled at her mother a little too innocently. "Oh, I know he fits me just fine."

Morjin put his head in his hands, shaking his head slightly, which made the other three chuckle. Kale, for his part, blushed with embarrassment.

Aya began to look concerned. "Mom, where will you go now?"

She glanced at Kale, who closed his eyes and took a deep breath before looking at Shara again. "You're welcome to stay with us at my parent's old cabin, if you wish."

Shara smiled, shaking her head. "Oh no, you two should live your lives together and by yourselves for now. I just feel like wandering around for a while, and letting the past couple years sort themselves out in my mind. It's been a long time since I've had a good walk."

Kale raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure?"

Shara smiled a bit more widely at him. "Yes I am, and please don't feel as if you're obligated. Don't worry, I'll come to visit every once in a while."

The rest of the evening was spent saying goodbye to all the people they'd met that had come along with them for this war. Ken stopped Aya before she and Kale left. He just looked into her eyes for a few moments before speaking. "You're not my enemy, but you're not my friend either. Don't expect that to change."

Aya nodded to him. "Very well. I wish for you good journeys."

Ken just nodded curtly, and walked away. Kale shrugged, and waited for Aya to come with him, which she did after a few moments. They walked in silence for the first few miles, just lost in their own thoughts.

Aya broke the silence first. "Kale, I'd like to stop by our Manses before we go back home."

Kale looked at her questioningly. "That's a bit of a detour. Any particular reason?"

She nodded, looking distant. "I'm hanging up my swords and armor. I don't want them in my life any longer."

Kale raised his eyebrows, shocked, before realization of what she meant made him nod in understanding. "I get it. Okay."

She smiled at him, stopping him to kiss him softly on the lips before pulling away with a smile. "I knew you'd understand."

He nodded, smiling back. "Yeah, you had all those years as a general, a fighter, and so on. A sword shows you are prepared for a fight, but tends to attract them too."

Aya kissed him again before they began walking once more. Kale turned to her a few minutes later, rolling his eyes because he had nearly forgotten. "Oh, _Shahan-ya_ Winterstripe wanted us both to visit the Lunar village soon. He asked me to bring you there after the war was over."

She smiled at him, nodding. "Alright."

They continued walking into the distance, the sun setting behind them.


	61. Epilogue

To my friend and mentor, Winterstripe -

Forgive a savant's mind wandering in thought, but I cannot help but reflect upon the past now, especially as I see that the old town of Thorns is nothing but a memory. The memory of its form has faded, becoming now the deceptively simple town Houric. As you know, due to the huge amounts of essence used during the fateful night Thorns was taken for the second time, this town had to be shaped using geomancy, so that the energies can flow throughout, within, and without the town freely and unobstructed.

The Alon-Ti settled here, destroying the Juggernaut's carcass, and giving it back to the earth that spawned it. This village appears to the casual eye to be a simple village, with no walls protecting it from the outside. People move about their daily work, bowing to one another respectfully as they pass. I admit, I knew in theory that if the essence of this place was channeled correctly, it might become a place of peace and prosperity. However, to see it in practice is something else entirely. The people here simply till the soil, read, paint, and gather in large groups around the nightly fires to tell stories, bring up business, and discuss matters.

They wished to have a small monument honoring Aya, but Aya refused politely. Her reply was simple: "I merely showed you the door to walk through. You did the walking yourself."

The Alon-Ti have embodied part of this philosophy now, as they begin training their children in their ways, showing the children how they practice the arts of war, how they find peace and creativity from silence, and how they honor all life.

You may be interested to know that a few Lunars have been here already. Their barbarian followers sneered at what they thought were complacent and "soft" villagers, but all left the town a few days later with thoughtful looks on their faces. The Lunars that visited looked thoughtful too, as they left. I think they saw what you saw when you visited that town last, and it occupies their minds and hearts as it does mine.

I smile now as I remember five years ago, when Aya hung up her sword and armor for good, and journeyed with Kale back to the Lunar village. She didn't know it was because you were arranging a wedding, but I think Kale suspected. I still remember the image of the two of them, clad in soft white cotton robes, wearing wreaths of flowers as they were united. I am glad you decided to perform the ceremony, as it wouldn't be fitting for anyone else to try. It pleases me greatly to see that they followed the same path their previous incarnations did, and it pleases me more to see that both of them are Nain-ya now.

I'm sure you noticed, but I saw Shara and Golgol looking at one another during the ceremony. Those two have spent quite a bit of time together as of late, taking walks in the woods or to other places. As I'm sure you'll agree, seeing the first Solar and Lunar being wed in over a thousand years would certainly be an auspicious omen, but I get ahead of myself.

I think of when I visited Kale and Aya only a month ago, and saw them sitting in the evening sunshine on the new porch of their cabin. The image of them seems prophetic of who they are as a couple, and what lies in store for them. I'll clarify - he was sitting back in a comfortable chair, while she sat on his lap, her head upon his shoulder, dozing in the warmth of the sun. They seemed so utterly comfortable and at peace, it brought tears to my old eyes.

I'm sure you'll frown at this, but there were no children there when I was there last. They mentioned that it wasn't time quite yet, and I understand why - they just want some time alone as a couple before they become mother and father, as for both of them, parenthood has some bad memories.

Oh, and before I get too carried away, that reminds me. The being the former Deathlord named Nemilette is now alive and well, but even with the documents Aya found from the Deathlord's personal chambers, this being remains a mystery. When I brought her back to the tube, her eyes lit up, and asked to go inside. Cautiously, I agreed. To my surprise, blood began to fill the tube after she had submerged herself, and began coagulating swiftly at the top. What was left was an embryo again.

After some experiments, the blood I found was from the Mask of Winters and Aya both. I've destroyed the blood, out of paranoia more than anything else. After I had done so, I was surprised to see her emerge from the tube once more, and looking quite different. She appeared to be approximately eight years old, with strikingly grey hair, stormlike grey eyes, and lightly tanned skin. She looked up at me as I entered the Manse, and simply said "This is how I'm supposed to look."

I got over my shock enough to examine her again. She appears to casual examination to be a normal, healthy eight year old human girl, though with grey hair and grey eyes. However, when I examined her magically, the same strange patterns flowed within her. They were mostly the same as when she was the Mask of Winters' "daughter," but flowed more freely now. This makes sense; the Oblivion from his blood probably stifled her own natural biorhythms.

My greatest surprise was finding that she could reform any portion of her body into a flesh-colored metal that has all the properties of moonsilver. I first found this out by watching her almost unconsciously reforming her arm into a sharp-edged scimitar-like blade to cut some firewood. It appears to be an instinctive thing for her, though I am doing the best I can now to help her learn control over her natural abilities, for which she seems thankful. She has no malice in her heart now, though she hasn't aged any for the past few years - she still appears to be a rather normal-looking little girl, though with the intellectual capacity of an adult.

I smile as I realize what you are thinking to yourself now - that she is simply what she is, and she cannot help but be anything else. I agree, as I try to teach her whatever she would like to learn. The wonder of a child is evidenced whenever she senses or experiences anything new, child-like joy welling up within her at discovering anything unknown or unexperienced. Otherwise, she seems to be an intelligent, if quiet, little girl. I get the feeling she knows far more about herself than she tells, but she's unable to communicate what she knows quite yet. In the meantime, I will simply help her and teach her as best I can, though I admit my paternal instincts are awakening as I look after this child. She calls me her father, and I have begun to call her my daughter. She is an enigma, to be certain - but not a dangerous one. I hope.

I decided to name her Lenne, though I do not know why. Perhaps it is simply a figment of my intuition, perhaps not.

In any case, things seem to be relatively quiet in this part of the world for now, following the upset that happened when the Immaculate Troops came to investigate the "disturbance" they had heard happened at Thorns. I admit, seeing the utter shock on their faces as they saw with their own eyes what had happened was one of the most amusing and priceless moments in my life. Thankfully, they left after questioning everyone within the town, though they still looked incredulous as they left.

 

May Luna's soft eyes watch over you and yours,

Morjin


	62. Afterword

In posting this story here on AO3, it's made me smile at the memories of what was going through my mind those years ago when the story was being crafted. It was inspired by reading through what is now the first edition Exalted books, though the only canon Exalted character in this story is the Mask of Winters himself. Even the Malfeans were only loosely described in the original Abyssals book, so I had quite a bit of fun with One Cloaked In Dust, imagining him/it as a very alien being who condescends to speak to those on our level. Mostly. Golgol-Fangs-Through-Eye is actually a salute to a character from the more modern White Wolf game Werewolf: The Apocalypse, named Golgol Fangs-First - a werewolf you do not wish to annoy at any time, in any place, for any reason. It seemed fitting.

The character Ken (the Lunar featured late in the story) and his accompanying Dragon-Blooded companions, as well as the Dragon-Blooded blacksmith Norath are borrowed from another fan-fiction writer's work, who sadly never finished his story. Regardless, those characters are borrowed from his Exalted fanfic, and used with the author's permission. Most of the others are entirely my own creations, with the exception of course of the Mask of Winters.

For those of you familiar with the setting and games, I took quite a few liberties with presentation and setting, including how the Exaltations (of all types) work - but, not too terribly many. Most characters are my own creation here, sprung out of whole cloth once the concept of intertwining destinies first came to me for this story as a theme. Morjin is very loosely based on Gandalf - which is more amusing now in retrospect, due to the Lord of the Rings and Hobbit movies. I can't read through Morjin's lines now without imagining him sounding like Ian McKellen.

The only other item I used that may be familiar is the Crissaegrim. For those of you who fondly remember the old PSX game Castlevania: Symphony of the Night, you might remember the Crissaegrim, and its strong blender-like tendencies. The name itself is actually another salute to J.R.R. Tolkien and his works, which I thought was a nice tie-in - it's a Sindarin (read: "elven") term, meaning "Cleft Mountain Peaks", and referred to where the giant eagles dwelt. I found that out while researching stuff for this story years ago, and felt that was too awesome not to use.

I tried to avoid using too many game terms here, writing this story out for those who've never even looked at an Exalted book before. Though this is technically fan fiction, aiming the writing for an audience who has not, and probably never will read said books was my aim here. If there are too many weird terms that don't make sense, please let me know, and I'll make edits.

This work does not showcase my best writing, I'll say that up-front - I'd like to think I've improved since then. Even so, if you spot an error, whether in terminology, a simple typo, or an error of continuity, please let me know with a message or a comment.

If you're reading this, you seriously got to the very end. You have my humble thanks for reading this through.


End file.
